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THE BERBER 


CHAPTER I. 

Near the banks of the Guadalete, and not far from the 
shore, where by several mouths the shallow stream pours its 
waters into the beautiful bay of Cadiz, stood some hundred 
and fifty years since, the quinta or casa di ca7npo of Don 
Pedro de Estivan. The building itself was one of but little 
pretension, either as to size or architectural merit; but the 
grounds were extensive — stretching, with a magnificent sweep, 
from the suburbs of Puerto Santa Maria down to the shore of 
the bay — the terraced gardens overlooking the rippling surf, 
being separated from the beach by a rampart merely, of large 
stones, surmounted by a marble balustrade. 

It was upon this balustrade — at the close of one of those 
glowing but cool and balmy Summer days, for which the 
climate of Andalusia is so famous — that a lady leaned, gazing 
with pensive air upon the golden waters. Her dark eye , 
bordered by long lashes and shadowed by jetty brows, arched 
and sharply defined, floated in lustrous langour over the 
glorious scene. Her black hair was arranged in festoons and 
secured by a large comb of tortoise-shell and gold. One 
jeweled hand confined the folds of her mantilla beneath her 
chin; the other, holding the closed fan, rested in careless 
grace upon the marble. Her foot — that tiny, plump, play- 
ful foot, for which the Gaditana^ ever has been, and ever 
will be world-renowned — was partially revealed from be- 
neath the drapery of her basquina, as it was raised upon the 
narrow banquette of the balustrade. Her form was of the 


* So called from Gades, the ancient name of Cadiz. 


2 


THE BERBER, 


medium height, and, although well-rounded and full, was far 
from being heavy. Her attitude was one of perfect repose; 
but there was a wavy, undulatory air about it, delicious in 
itself, but perfectly enchanting in its promise of mobile grace. 
It seemed as if the very atmosphere was anxious to antici- 
pate her will, and held itself in conscious readiness to yield 
to the slightest indication of motion. 

Oh! It was a beautilul picture, that fair, young Spanish 
girl as she stood thus leaning on the marble, beneath a canopy 
of vines, and gazing with pensive mien upoii the sandy beach, 
the rippling water, and, in the distance, the glittering walls 
and towers of the renowned city of Hercules rising from out 
the besom of the ocean. It was a beautiful picture as she 
stood thus gazing at the numerous lateen cr'aft that dotted 
the surface of the bay, the tali galleons and men-of war of 
the Caraca and the inner roadstead, the numerous sails that 
crowded the seaward passage between Rota and Point Sebas- 
tian, and in particular, one small boat, rowed by a single 
oarsman, that for an hour and more had been slowly approach- 
ing the bar of the Guadalete. 

A beautiful picture it was — one of unrivaled loveliness, a 
spectator would have been tempted to say — and yet at that 
very moment,, in the neighboring dominions of ihe iVIoor, 
might have been seen one equally beautiful and strikingly 
similar. Let us flit in imagination Rr one moment, by the 
boid head -land of Trafalgar, across the Straits of Gibraltar, 
and over the hills and valleys of Mogreb-el-Acsa, or the 
extreme west,” as the Arabs call the Kingdom of Fez, until 
we stand upor^ the terraced roofs of Mequinez, the favorite 
city of the famous Muley Ismael, the then reigning sovereign 
of Morocco. It was at that very hour of that very Summer’s 
afternoon: the sun was just sinking to his ocean bea beyond 
the broad and beautiful plain of Marmora, tingeing with his 
level beu,ms the peaks of the Djebel Tedia, and lighting up 
the silvery reach of the Ordom as it wound its way through 
the delicious valley cf Mequinez. The first chant of the 
Mueddins floated over the thronged city on the evening breeze, 
and instantly w^ere hushed the noises that came up from the 
broad market-places and the narrow streets— a whole cuy was 
at prayer! 

rjL young girl rose from a pile of cushions in a corner of the 
parapet surrounding the flat roof of a house that stood within 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


3 


a few steps of the vast inclosure designated as the Palace 
of the Sultan.” With a gesture of impatience she tossed the 
guitar, upon which she had been playing, from her, and leaned 
upon an angle of the railing that encircled the square court. 
Her figure, tall and light, but well rounded, was finely set 
off by a tightly fitting caftan or vest of green velvet worked 
with gold thread, from beneath which fell a short skirt of linen. 
Her arms were bare, nearly to the shoulder, save three or four 
bracelets of emeralds ana pearls. Around each delicate and 
nicely turned ankle, the proportions of which were unconcealed 
by other covering, there were clasped broad anklets of mas- 
sive silver. Her feet were thrust carelessly into wide slippers 
of worked cordovan, from which at times they were half with- 
drawn, as if to afford a glimpse of what they would have been 
in the nicely-fitting shoe of the Gaditana. Her hair was 
braided and secured by a bandeau of silk and gold. Her eyes, ' 
dark and lustrous as hers of Cadiz, were relieved by even 
longer lashes and a more finely drawn eyebrow. A continua- 
tion of the eyebrow, however, by a dark line drawn in a curve 
upon the temples, would have produced upon a Christian eye 
a somewhat questionable effect, and, in conjunction with a 
brilliant circle of red paint upon either cheek, would, perhaps, 
have detracted slightly from the influence of a broad, smooth 
brow, a delicate aquiline nose, a mouth small and of exquisite 
shape, and of capabilities fully corresponding to the eye in 
the way of passion and affection, and a chin deeply dimpled 
and curved to the most perfect oval. 

The maiden gazes for a moment down into the court below, 
where several female slaves are hurrying to and fro, scolding 
and iostling each other as they proceed in their preparations 
for the evening meal. Her short, pouting lip curls with an 
expression of contempt, and turning, her eye sweeps over the 
broad scene — the wide expanse ot whitewashed roofs, from 
which tower up the glittering minarets of the mosques — the 
lofty peaks and broad slopes of the Atlas, until reaching the 
North It becomes fixed in vacancy. Suddenly an expression 
of sternness comes over those delicate features, and then a sigh 
undulates the palpitating ouiline of her bosom. The maiden 
is dreaming of the traditionary glories of Andalusia. In fancy 
she visits the house of her ancestors; the very key of which, 
preserved with reverential care, hangs in the court below. 
The halls and fountains of the Alhambra rise upon her imagi- 


4 


THE BERBER, 


naiion; she sees the battlefield by the banks of the Guadelcte, 
where base Roderick yielded up his kingdom to the fiery 
valor of Tarik and his followers; she sees the gardens of 
Seville, and the mosques, and palaces and biidges, and baths 
of Cordova and Toledo, and soft, sunny Xerez; she hears the 
mingled sounds of the tournament and the bull-fight — the 
shouts of the populace — the tramp of the war-steed — the 
clangor of drum and cymbal, and the clash of buckler and 
spear. She hears the soft tones of rebec arid guitar mingled 
with the sound of joyous voices — and oh! how her heart 
swells, and her form dilates, and her eye flashes, as she 
catches the strains of an old ballad : 

“ Rise up ! Rise up, Xaripha ! 

Lay your golden cushion down; 

Rise up ! come to the window, 

And gaze with all the town. 

*■' From gay guitar and violin 

The silver notes are flowing. 

And the lovely lute doth speak between 
The trumpet’s lordly blowing. 

And banners bright from lattice light 
Are waving everywhere. 

And the tall plume of Andallah 
Floats proudiy in the air.” 

Oh, it was a beautiful picture! as she stood thus gazing 
and dreaming — that fair young Moorish maiden, with her 
passionate eye and quivering lip — it was a beautiful picture; 
but what has it to do with the similar picture of the lovely 
Gaditana on the shore of the bay of Cadiz? Much — much 
that neither of those graceful beings could have dreamed of 
at the time, as they stood thus unknown to each other, igno- 
rant of each other’s existence even, but intimately connected 
in the commingling destinies of their future lives. 

A beautiful picture it was, but we may not dwell on it at 
the present moment — the exigencies of our story demanding 
a return to the garden on the banks of the Guadalete. 

The eye of the Gaditana was steadily watching the boat, 
with its single oarsman, that v/as slowly making its way from 
Cadiz, towards the entrance of the river. As it came closer, 
although still too distant to perm.it a recognition of the boat- 
man’s features, her interest in his movemen s seemed to 
deepen, until her attention became so concentrated that she 


A 'TALE OF MOROCCO. 5 

scarcely heard her name as it was shouted three or four times 
in a clear girlish voice amid the labyrinth of vines. 

‘^Isabel! Isabel! where are you? Where have you hidden 
yourself?” And a tall and lithesome figure bounded into 
sight, and tripped a-down the arbor with a step in which was 
mingled an uncommon degree of lightness and elasticity with 
the usual grace of the Andaluza. ‘‘See, Isabel, I have finished 
the last leaf of my rose,” and the young girl held out a piece 
of embroidery, such as still, in the present day, frequently 
occupies the attention of the Spanish fair. Congratulate 
your Juanita, sister dear, upon finishing such a precious piece 
of work! Come, don’t you admire it?” 

“ I do,’' replied the elder sister, “ despite the long thorns 
with which you have seen fit to environ your flower. How 
could you have drawn them so out of all proportion ? ” 

“ Oh, partly accident, and partly design,” returned Juanita. 
“You see, Isabel dear, this rose is emblematical — it is not 
one of our common garden roses — it is one of the roses of 
life, and those, you know, have monstrous long thorns!” 

“ Indeed, Juanita, and how came you to know anything of 
the thorns on the roses of life ?” 

“ Oh, did not Father Padilla tell us all about them last 
Sunday — how long they were, and how sharp ? And have 
we not better authority for them than that in the poets and 
romancers? Oh, there is not a page of Dante and Tasso, 
where glows a rose, beneath which you cannot see the thorns 
— and long ones too. Besides, Isabel, you forget that I am 
nearly sixteen. I have my experiences.” 

“ You, Juanita!” exclaimed the elder sister, with a sigh, as 
she turned her eyes once more to the boat, that was now 
within a few yards ot the shore. 

“Yes, I — I may not have been pricked very deeply as yet 
by the thorns of life, but can one wound your heart, dearest 
Isabel, without my feeling it too ?” 

The young girl threw her arms tenderly about the elder sis- 
ter, and both leaned in silence upon the marble. 

The two sisters closely lesembled each other, but to an 
observant eye there was a marked difference in the form and 
expression of their features, clearly indicating a correspond- 
ing difference of character and mental power. ITe younger 
was the taller of the two, and her figure, though less round 
and full, had more buoyancy and apparent strength and 


6 


THE BERBER, 


agility. Her forehead was higher and broader, her nostrils 
more arched and prominent, and her lips somewhat thinner 
and more sharply defined. Hers was a face that, even in 
repose, beamed with an expression of intellect, passion and 
will, while that of her sister was chiefly remarkable for its air 
of yielding delicacy and affection. Even the very attitudes 
in which they stood gave token of the superior energy of 
the younger. With her arms thrown round the eminently ^, 
femine form of her elder sister, the graceful Juanita seemed" 
not more disposed to caress than to protect. 

Dearest Isabel,” resumed the young girl, why do you 
let them make you so miserable ? ” 

How can I help it, Juanita ? Is not the prospect of being 
forced into a marriage with any one enough to make me 
miserable ? — but with our cousin Orsolo — horrible !” 

So horrible,” replied Juanita, ^^that I would refuse to 
contemplate it. I would soon take means to put an end to 
such a prospect. 

How? in what manner ?” demanded her sister. 

I would at once assert my determination never to submit 
to such a profanation — such a sacrilege,” exclaimed the young 
girl, drawing up her slight figure to its full height. • 

And pass the rest of your days in a convent ?” replied 
Isabel. 

I would see Don Diego de Orsolo himself,” returned 
Juanita. would tell him that I loved him not; that I 
could not marry him.” 

’Twould be of no avail,” responded Isabel. “Don Diego 
has no magnanimity — no generosity. He deems me the heir 
of my aunt’s estates of Ronda Fronta. He would not perse- 
cute me so, did he think I should inherit only the slender 
fortunes of the Estivans. ’Tis money that he wants as much 
or more than my love.’’ 

“ I would tell him then,” exclaimed Juanita — her black 
eyes flashing, and her arched nostril dilating, and her short 
lip quivering with passion — “ I would tell him that i hated — 
that I despised him. I would tell him the story over again, 
if he has forgotten it, of one of our family — Maria of the 
dagger — who stabbed herself at the altar — 1 would tell him 
that, like hers, my dagger should gleam, were it in the eyes 
of all the priests and nobles of Spain; but that, instead of my 
bosom, it should find a fitter sheath in his own dastard heart, 

I would dare him to marry me I” 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


7 


^^Husli! hush! Juanita — you frighten me,” exclaimed Isa- 
bel, recoiling before the excited looks and convulsive grasp 
of her sister^ you might drive him away, for Don Diego is 
a coward. But think of the alternative — a convent for 
life.” 

Marry, then, your English lover, and leave country and 
friends. Beautiful as this is, there must surely be other 
scenes as fair; and sister, sooner than see you married to our 
cousin, I will fly v/ith you. I care not, if it is to countries 
where the ministers of religion dare not, like Father Padilla, 
lend themselves to avarice, and licentiousness, and cruelty.” 

‘^Hush! hush! dearest Juanita, you make me tremble — • 
you are so wild — so passionate — so — ” 

‘‘ Heretical — you would say. Well, I care not. If to de- 
spise cousin Orsolo, and his tool. Father Padilla, is heresy, 
then I am a heretic. They may make an auto-da-fe for me, 
as they did for the poor Jew at Lisbon the other day; but 
they will not compel me to recant. I hate Father Padilla. 
Do you know, Isabel, I shouldn’t be surprised to receive the 
attention of the Holy Office before long; for I have already 
intimated to the old wine-bibber my scepticism as to the pos- 
sibility of a drunken priest getting to heaven, and still more, 
of his ability to send any one else there.” 

Isabel raised her hands at her sister’s audacity. ‘^Hush,' 
foolish, wicked Juanita. Your careless words will bring us 
trouble. Hush ! you make me tremble.” 

At this moment the boat, that we have indicated as steer- 
ing for the bar of the Guadalete, suddenly changed its course, 
and with a few vigorous strokes was sent upon the beach, 
some hundred yards below the garden wall where stood the 
sisters. 

Look there, Juanita,” exclaimed the elder, as the boatman 
sprang lightly to the shore. 

’Tis your English lover — ’tisDon Edward,’’ said Juanita, 
after a moment’s scrutiny. 

God forbid 1 — but ’tis as I feared,” replied Isabel, pale 
and trembling; what shall be done? How foolish for 
him to venture. He little knows the danger that threatens 
him.” 

He’s over bold, indeed,” returned Juanita, to come in 
the daylight. But, sister, you must see him now, and 
warn him of his danger. ’Twculd be' wrong, indeed, to 


8 


THE BERBER, 


leave so brave a gallant to the dagger of such a coward as our 
cousin ” 

^^No, no, I cannot, exclaimed the elder; I dare not.” 
But the impulsive and impetuous Juanita, unheeding her 
sister's remonstrance, waved her handkerchief in the air; a 
signal that the young boatman replied to b}^ raising his hat, 
and then advancing, concealed by the low banks of sand 
from view from the balconies of the quinta, 

‘‘I will go and keep watch,” said Juanita. Don Diego 
and Father Padilla are here; for I saw them talking with 
several strange-looking fellows but a few moments since. 
If I notice anything suspicious, I will sing you a verse of 
the Cid in my loudest key ; but wait not for my voice, dis- 
patch your lover in all haste, for much I fear his coming is 
known.” 

So saying, her lithe and slender figure vanished amid the 
foliage of the winding arbors. 


CHAPTER II. 

It was somewhere about the year 1671 or *72, that a young 
Englishman, named Henry Carlyle, settled himself as a 
merchant at Cadiz. Altough, at first, but an agent for his 
principals in England , who were largely interested in the 
then rapidly increasing trade in the famous products of the 
vineyards of Xeres, he soon won for himself, by his industry 
and attention to business, and by the skill and judgment he 
evinced in dealing with the jealous and bigoted Spaniard, a 
character and a standing that at length enabled him to set 
up for himself, and eventually led to the accumulation of a 
fortune. The fortune put it in his power to marry one of the 
seven lovely daughters of a poor English baronet, and the 
marriage finally made him the father of two fine boys. 

Justly proud were the worthy parents of their twin-chil- 
dren. Inheriting, on the part of their father, an excellent, 
although somewhat plebeian constitution, and on the part of 
their mother some of the best blood of England, they grew 
rapidly in beauty and strength: and, ft-om the first, exhibited 
such a close resemblance to each other as often to puzzle 
their fond parents as to their separate identities. 

The rich merchant had a country seat near the shore of 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


9 


the Atlantic, a little above Rota, where the twins p!lssed 
mjit of their time in charge of an English tutor and a Scotch 
nuise, but under the immediate eye of the jealous and watch- 
ful mother. Her jealousy and w^atchfulness, however, served 
not to save one of the twins from a fate to which, in 
those days, all the dwellers by the sea-side wxre constantly 
exposed; and which, to the apprehensions of a good Chris- 
tian, seemed more terrible than death. 

The children had reached the age of ten, when one day — 
about fifteen years previous to the dat^ of the scene with 
which our story opens — they were surprised by a party of 
Moors who had landed from a Salee corsair. At th; first 
appearance of the pirates, who had secreted themselves amo- g 
the sand hills on the shore, one of the boys was hurried 
along by his tutor in full speed for the house. The timely 
warning and a good start enabled him to make his escape; 
but his brother Henry, who had wandered wide, w^as inter- 
cepted and seized. Long before any attempts could be made 
for his rescue, the pirates had taken to their boats, and put 
off from the shore to rejoin their galley, which, disguised as 
a fishing vessel, was waiting for them on the bar off the 
Guadalquiver. 

A visit from Maroquien and Algerine cruisers was then too 
common an event on the coasts of Spain to excite much at- 
tention, especially when, as in this case, the loss was so slight 
— only one child, and he the son of an Englishmen, and a 
heretic — and nothing was done by the Spanish officials to 
rescue the child or to punish the pirates, although it was 
known from an escaped galley slave, that they were bound 
for further depredations to the coa^t of Portugal. Every 
means, however, that the afflicted father could employ were 
taken for the recovery of his child. The British agent at the 
court of Muley Ismael was written to in relation to the mat- 
ter, and money was sent to the superior of the Spanish Fath- 
er of the Redemption, at Mequinez, for the ransom of the 
boy. But all exertions availed nothing; no tidings could be 
had of him from any source, and the conjecture was general 
with all who knew anything of Moorish habits and notions, 
that his captors, sordid and avaricious as they were, pre- 
ferred the conversion of his young and impressible mind to' 
the true faith to selling him for a slave or to offering him for 
redemption. 


lO 


THE BERBER, 


Thankful for the escape of one son, it required but a few 
months to assuage the father’s grief at the loss of the other. 
Not so with the mother, who refused to be comforted. The 
idea of her lost child — living, but living in the habits and 
the belief of a Mohammedan — took complete possession of 
her mind. Her health rapidly declined, a,nd in little more 
than a year, she found refuge from her grief in the grave. 

Upon the loss of his mother, young Edward was sent to 
England, where he resided for six or seven years at school. 
At the end of this period he retnrned to his father, who 
needed his aid in the bbunting-room at Cadiz and the wine- 
vaults of Puerto Santa Maria. A short trial, however, soon 
satisfied both father and son that the mercantile profession 
was not the one to which the young man’s tastes and talents 
were best adapted. His own inclination wavered between 
the profession of arms and the pursuit of literature; but 
before deciding definitely as to his future career, his father 
resolved that he should see something more of the world. 
The cool and sagacious merchant, whose judgment was un- 
warped either by his affection for his graceful, good-looking 
boy, or by his really lustifiable pride in his showy talents 
and accomplishments, saw much in his desultory habits, and 
in his enthusiastic but vascillating turn of mind, to make him 
doubt his persistence in any pursuit, unless entered upon 
with all due consideration. This, however, was of less con- 
sequence in the mind of the father than he would have been 
willing to allow to the son. He knew that his boy would 
inherit an ample fortune, and it was a subject, therefore, of 
bud little regret that he possessed not those plodding and 
methodical habits that would be most likely to increase it. 
To fit him for enjoying his fortune as a gentleman was now 
the principal object in the father’s 'mind, and he accordingly 
at once gave his consent to a proposed tour with one of his 
schoolmates through the Continent and to the Levant. From 
this tour he had returned, some two or three months previous 
to the date of the events in the last chapter, to find his father 
in a declining state of health, and himself a subject of watch- 
ful jealousy to certain Spanish officials, religious and political, 
who had made up their minds for a share of the rich heretic’s 
fortune. 

At that time, the situation of a Protestant merchant in 
a Spanish port was a very delicate and d.fficult one. Com- 


A TALE OF MOROCCO, 


II 


merciai jealousy, national animosity, and religious hate, all 
conspired in a degree, unknown in the present day, to em- 
barrass his movements and endanger his gains. What the 
myrmidons of the law could not affect, the ministers of re- 
ligion frequently succeeded in accomplishing, and the Inqui- 
sition, then in full force, stepping in, tne plunder and ruin of 
the unlucky culprit were complete. By his prudence, energy, 
personal influence, and knowledge of Spanish customs and 
character, the father of Edward had managed to maintain his 
ground against all the evil influences around him; but now, 
that his health was beginning to fail him, the hopes of the 
cormorants, who had long had an eye to his money-bags, 
began to revive. Between these hopes and their ultimate 
gratification stood the young heir, and it was a question that 
had already begun to be agitated, whether he was to be 
disposed of By open despoliation, or the chicanery of the law^ 
— by the dagger of the assassin, or the dungeons of the 
Inquisition. 

Such was the condition of affairs when, as if to complica-te 
his position with still further difficulties and dangers, the 
young Don Edward suffered his ardent fancy to become 
captive to the bright eyes and graceful form of Isabel de Esti- 
van. Contrary to the usual Spanish custom, the fair Anda- 
luza had been brought up without female supervision, and 
with very little restriction upon her habits and movements. 
Her mother had been dead several years. Her only relative, 
an aunt, was too much engrossed with the care of her estates 
to take any immediate interest in the training of her nieces. 
Her father’s circumstances were too embarrassed to enable 
him to keep up for his daughters a fitting establishment of. 
duenna and attendants, while he was too busily occupied by 
his intrigues for office and fortune to bestow any very close 
attention upon them himself. This freedom, however, from 
the usual restrictions of Spanish domestic life w^as the result 
of circumstances, not of principles; and there wanted nothing 
but some occasion for suspicion to arouse, in all its vigor, 
the authority of the father and the watchfulness of friends. 
An acquaintance with the handsome young heretic, formed 
at an evening tertulia, ripened rapidly in two or three acci- 
dental meetings upon the Alemeda and the Plaza del Anto- 
nio into an intimacy that soon aroused jealousy, and called 
for ajtive interference. The fair G^ditana was at one 3 con- 


12 


THE BERBER, 


fined to the house, and her admirer, when breathing forth 
his regret at her absence to the accompaniment of his guitar, 
was one night assaulted by a party of ruffians, and had it 
not been for his extraordinary skill with his good toledo,” 
would have been put beyond the reach of Cupid’s arrows for 
evermore. As it was, he barely escaped, with wounds that 
confined him to his chamber for weeks, and in the meantime 
his dulcinea was removed to an old, dilapidated family coun- 
try seat on the other side of the bay of Cadiz, at the mouth 
of the Guadalete. 

Though not of the highest nobility, the family of Don 
Pedro de Estivan were of the best blood of Spain. But un- 
luckily his fortunes did not, as we have said, correspond 
either to his birth or to his own notions of his deserts. Like 
many of his countrymen he was both poor and .proud, and 
this put him very much in the power of a rich kinsman, Don 
Diego de Orsolo, who had conceived a violent passion for the 
fair Isabel, or rather for the magnificent estates ol a rich but 
penurious aunt, to which it was supposed she would become 
heir. Cold and selfish and ill-favored, Don Diego was not 
the man to win the heart of a fair maiden, especially when 
there was a handsome and accomplished lover in the way ; but 
jealous, revengeful and determined, he was just the man to 
take any means, however atrocious, to remove a rival, or to 
secure possession of an unwilling bride. 

By the agents of Don Diego the movements of the young 
Englishman were closely watched, and great was the wrath 
of both the dons when it was found that upon two or three 
occasions the temerarious gallant had crossed the bay, and 
had tinkled his guitar in the stillness of the night under the 
balconies of the quinta. Such audacity in a heretic, an 
Englishman^ and the son of a trader, deserved the severest 
punishment; and Don Diego took upon himself the charge 
of inflicting it. A severe beating or a gentle blood-letting 
would have satisfied Don Pedro; but Don Diego resolved 
that his revenge should be deadly and sure, and, at the same 
time, safe and profitable; to effect which he had no scruple 
, to call to his aid the officials of the Inquisition. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


^3 


CHAPTER in. 

The adventurous boatman raised his hat in reply to the 
signal of the younger sister. Crouching low, he attained the 
shelter of the garden wall, and then advanced with a rapid 
pace until he stood directly beneath the balustrade where 
leaned the fair Isabel. 

No wonder that she liked not the idea of marrying her 
ungainly, grim-visaged kinsman, Don Diego — not that she 
was very much in love with the graceful Englishman ; but her 
fancy had been unquestionably taken, and her admiration 
excited by his handsome features, his fair open brow, his 
clear hazel eye, his frank, good-natured smile, and his figure, 
tall, symmetrical, and abounding in those nameless, natural 
indications of combined activity and strength. 

The first impulse of the timid Isabel had been to follow 
the footsteps of her more energetic and vivacious sister ; but 
a moment’s thought of the danger that threatened the young 
man checked her movements, and with a degree of excite- 
ment that drove the blood from her usually richly-tinted 
cheek, she awaited his approach. 

“Thanks, fair lady,” he exclaimed, gracefully taking his 
sombrero from his head, and shaking back the clustering 
curls of dark auburn as he raised his eyes to the maiden 
above him : “ Thanks for this kindness — this condescension ; 
I had begun to despair of ever seeing you again.” 

“Hush! seiior,” replied Isabel, bending down over the 
balustrade, and speaking in a low tone : “ This is no time for 
the language of compliment ; you are surrounded by enemies; 
your life is in danger.” 

“Danger 1” exclaimed Edward; “ ah ! there is no danger 
for me equal to that which lies in those black eyes. But why 
are you so agitated ? what is it that alarms you !’’ 

The young man placed his foot in a crevice between the 
stones and seized the branches of a trailing vine that had 
been suffered to overgrow the crest of the rampart. Isabel 
threw up her arms, as if deprecating his nearer approach; 
but before she could utter a word he had drawn himself up, 
and leaping the balustrade, stood by her side. 

“Indeed, senor, you are too bold,” exclaimed the maiden, 
as soon as she could recover her voice. 


14 


THE- BERBER, 


Pardon me, senorita,” replied Edward; I would not 
intrude upon you; but you know — ” 

Nay, it is not that;'’ interrupted Isabel, I mean not 
that you are too bold as respecis myself; in that I have 
perhaps given you too much warrant for boldness; but you 
are too bold, too careless, in regard to the threats and designs 
of your enemies*” 

Enemies 1” exclaimed Edward; “I have no enemy but 
Don Diego, and his enmity I court, as it is the necessary 
consequence of your favor.” 

‘‘Do not interrupt me, senor,” continued Isabel, “ I have 
but a moment to speak to you. I have waited here only to 
give you warning. You have enemies — many of them. You 
are watched, senor, closely watched; every movement of 
yours is known; and much I misdoubt me if m-alicious eyes 
are not upon us this very moment.” 

“ Let them,” interrupted Edward, taking her hand; “Let 
them watch; I care not, since neither the eyes nor the dag- 
gers bdonging to their owners, can pierce my heart so cruelly 
as those bright orbs of yours. Que hermosos ojos / Ah, who 
could resist them?” 

“ Oh, speak not so contemptuously, senor, of the danger, 
that threatens you. You could not, 1 am sure, so brave it, if 
you understood its nature. It is not the dagger of the assas- 
sin that frightens me most, though they may not fail the second 
time. It is something far worse. I shudder to think of it.” 

“What is it, ini queriditaV^ demanded the young man, 
drawing the shrinking maiden towards him ; “ what is it that 
you fear for me ?” 

“ The Inquisition !” replied Isabel, with a shudder. 

“ Ha 1” exclaimed her lover, the blood retreating for a 
moment from his cheek, “they would not dare — ” 

“Not in the streets of Cadiz; it would be too public; it 
would attract too much attention, and arouse all your friends; • 
but on this side of the bay — here at Puerto Santa Maria — 
you can be seized and consigned to a dungeon without giving 
any clue to your fate. You may come to light again v/hen 
your father is a beggar, stripped of all his fortune for the ran- 
som of his son. Trust me, there is a scheme on foot against 
you and your father’s wealth; a conspiracy between certain 
hungry priests and your deadliest enemy, Don Diego de 
prsplo.’^ ^ 

How know you this?” demanded Edward. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO, 


IS 


I ‘know* it,” eagerly returned the maiden, ‘‘^from Father 
Padilla. Juanita extracted the whole plan from him when 
he was garrulous with wine. Juanita is shrewd beyond her 
years; and I know not how it is, but I am getting to repose 
more confidence in her quickness and intelligence than in my 
own. I know it, too, from the threat of Don Diego, and from 
the presence of numerous officials of the Inquisition around 
the house. Oh! trust me; I know it too well. You have 
not a moment to lose. See, the twilight is fading. Go, while 
you have yet power — in a few moments it may be too late — 
quick 1 to your boat 1” exclaimed the excited Isabel, as the 
voice of her sister came to her ear : — 

“ The king had taken an order that they should rear an arch, 

From house to house, all over the way that they must march; 

They had hung it all with lances, and shields, and glittering helms, 
Brought by the campeador from out the Moorish realms.” 

The loud clear voice of Juanita rose almost to a shriek, as 
she sang the last line. 

“ Quick I — to your boat at once — ah I linger not; you little 
know the imminence of the danger; back to Cadiz; there you 
are comparatively safe ; but tarry not even there if you can 
possibly leave the country.” 

“Never, Isabel. How can you be so cruel as to propose 
it? Ah, your coldness wounds me deeper than could the 
dagger of Don Diego.” 

But further conversation was cut short by the appearance 
of Juanita, who came flying down the avenue with every mark 
of excitement and alarm. 

^‘Fly, sehor,” exclaimed the young giil energetically, 
grasping Edwaid by the arm; “to your boat — quickly and 
cautiously 1 .Do you see that clump of shrubbery beyond the 
garden-wall ? Behind that are concealed a party of men, who 
are there to watch your motions. You will have to pass 
them on your way to your boat. Do so leisurely until you 
are beyond them, and then haste for your life. Do you 
comprehend me ? Well — no words — God speed you. Come, 
Isabel;” and, seizing her sister’s arm, Juanita drew her 
rapidly up the arbor, leaving the somewhat astonished gallant 
standing motionless, gazing upon the retreating figures, and 
half disposed to spring after them and detain them, at least 
until he had taken leave in a manner better befitting an in- 


1 6 THE BERBER^ 

terview which it had cost the kbor of rowing eight or ten 
miles to obtain. 

The earnest tones and energetic gesture of the younger 
maiden had, however, their effect* A conviction of the dan- 
ger of his situation flashed across Edward’s mind. He 
turned, and leaping the balustrade, swung himself lightly down 
the terrace wall to the beach. 

Mindful of the caution he had received, he strolled leisurely 
along, stopping now and then to fling a pebble, on the water, 
until he was abreast of the spot indicated by Juanita as the 
lurking place of his foes. He knew that any appearance of 
haste would bring them at once upon him, whereas, if he 
could make them think that he was disposed to remain until 
night, they, too, would be willing to wait until darkness 
should enable them to attack him without being observed, 
and in perhaps a greater force than in so short a time they 
had been able to collect. 

Slowly he paced to and fro in front of his ambushed enemy 
• — gradually gaining ground at each turn towards his boat. 
Suddenly three or four heads appeared above the angle of the 
wall, and in a moment more, half a dozen men sprang to the 
beach. 

Edward paused not for a moment, but darting forward at 
full speed, reached his boat some distance ahead of his pur- 
suers* Unluckily the tide had ebbed a little, leaving his 
boat somewhat higher on the beach, but exerting his utmost 
strength, he succeeded in shoving it into the water and 
jumping in himself, just as the foremost of his foes came up 
to him. 

Yield thee, senor, to the warrant of the Holy Office,” 
exclaimed the panting official, at the same lime rushing into 
the water and laying hold of the bow of the boat. 

With a sweep of his oar that laid his pursuer floundering 
in the water, the young man replied to the summons* With 
another vigorous push the boat shot out beyond the reach of 
further molestation, 

A shout of rage and a volley of curses were sent after him 
by the Spaniards* — while, adjusting his oars in their rowlocks, 
he quietly pulled out into the bay, over which was beginning 
to steal the luminous gray of an Andulusian Summer’s night. 
There was light enough, however, to show the disappointed 
officials and their ruffian companions grouped for a moment 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


17 


in consultation — the next he saw them start off. at a furious 
pace in the direction of some fishing-boats drawn up upon the 
beach. 

‘‘They will soon be after me,” muttered Edward, “but 
thank God here comes the easterly breeze — with a dozen oars 
against one pair of sculls, there would be but a poor chance 
in a chase of eight miles — the levante, however, will put us 
more on an equality.” 

Laying down his oars, the young man quickly stepped a 
short mast, and rigged upon it a slender lateen yard with a 
light sail attached. He then shipped the rudder, and hoisting 
and squaring the sail, the liitle vessel darted off over the 
smooth water before the light breath of the easterly breeze. 

Edward gazed astern: he could just see the slender yard of 
a small felucca — a fishing boat probably — with the furled sail 
attached. At that moment the sail fell from the yard, and a 
broad patch of canvas showed that his pursuers were also 
about to take advantage of the freshening levante. 

The young man, seizing the tiller ropes, carefully seated 
himself so as to trim the boat to an even keel. As his little 
bark quietly and steadily skimmed the surface of the bay, he 
had leisure to think over all the circumstances of his situation, 
and to speculate on the probable chances of escape. The 
appalling nature of the danger broke upon him with a degree 
of distinctness that it never could have had when under the 
immediate influence of the dark eyes of the Gaditana. He 
knew, that if captured thus, secretly, at night, his friends all 
ignorant of his fate, his djom was sealed; and that if the 
oungeons of the Inquisition once closed upon him, no matter 
hovv preposterous the charge, or how transparent the pretext, 
a long imprisonment, ending only with loss of fortune, and 
perhaps of life, would be his fate. 

“Better die than be taken,’’ he exclaimed, starting from 
his reverie. “ Better any fate than the cells of the Holy 
Office.” 

Drawing his rapier, he placed it so as to be within reach ; 
and then loosing his dagger in its sheath, he proceeded to 
ungird the^woolen sash from around his waist, and to wind it 
over his left arm. “ It may serve to receive a stab or to ward 
a blow,” he n^uttered. 

He looked again for the felucca ; it was now night, but 
her broad sail was distinctly vibible and evidently much 


THE BERBER, - 


i8 

nearer. , There v/as also the gleam of oar-blades, as, dripping 
with the water, they flashed upward in the bright star-light. 
The creaking and working of the sweeps in their grommets 
became more and more audible. 

‘‘Hal” exclaimed Edward, “they are in earnest. And 
all this risk,” he continued musingly, “ for a girl who loves 
me not. I can see it in her eyes. T here is a depth of passion 
in those bright but quiet orbs that I have failed to stir : no, 
she likes me well, but she loves me not. And I, — am I in 
love with her ? Caramba I the very question should be its 
own answer : a passing fancy maybe stopped and challenged, 
but true love cannot be questioned : as well question the 
broad sunlight, whether it is day, No — I do not love her. 
But, by all the saints, she is a glorious creature ! I could 
love her — yes, I could love her 1 Methinks, did she love 
me, a single glance of passion would melt my soul, were it of 
adamant, and fuse it into one with hers ; but as it is — ah ! 
my love is hardly worth risking a dungeon for. I am willing 
to brave a dagger’s thrust for almost any fair lady ; but the 
Inquisition — thatds a different matter !” 

The young man gazed anxiously around the horizon. There 
were other sails in sight, but none near enough to aid him. 
even supposing that their crews would have dared to oppose 
themselves to a warrant from the Holy Office. His boat was 
now in the centre of the bay, and his pursuers about four or 
five hundred yards astern, slowly, but surely, gaining upon 
him. Convulsively his hand grasped the hiit of his rapier, 
when suddenly an idea flashed upon his mind that made him 
bound from his reclining posture with a renewed hope of 
escape. 

“ By heavens, I’ll try it !” he exclaimed ; “ I hardly think 
that they will follow me, if I can get a good offing.” And 
spring. ng forward, he swayed down and secured the yard in 
a position more nearly approaching a perpendicular ; trim- 
med the sheet aft, and, seizing the tiller, turned the bow of 
his boat directly seaward ; steering a course that led about 
midway between the extreme point of Cadiz on the one hand, 
and the village of Rota on the other. 

It was some little time before the crew of the felucca ob- 
served this change of course ; but the instant it was seen, they 
also hauled to the wind and continued the chase. 

For full an hour both boats held their way, until Rota and 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


19 


Punta Catalena at the mouth of the bay were left far behind. 
They were novvT fairly out at sea, and still no signs of any 
disposition on the part of the Spaniards to abandon the pur- 
suit. Edward knew not that Don Diego himself w^as on board 
the felucca, urging and directing her movements, or he never 
would have indulged the hope of shaking off his pursuers by 
standing out to sea. 

Again did his heart sink within him, as he saw the steadi- 
ness with which the felucca held on his course, and noted the 
short distance — not more than sixty or eighty yards — that 
now- intervened. Twenty minutes more would decide his 
fate — and such a fate! He thought of his father — of Isabel — 
of the dungeons of the Inquisition ;'and he looked for a mo- 
ment bitterly upon the dark water, half tempted to bury his 
anxiety beneath its surface. 

No, no,” he muttered to himself, that would be cow- 
ardly. Better leatp aboard of them, and trust to sword and 
dagger I” 

But as bespoke thus, the thought of jumping overboard 
suggested a new plan of escape. If he cjiild make his pur- 
suers believe, for the time, that he had leaped overboard and 
gone to the bottom, he might possibly elude their grasp as 
effectually as if such had actually been his fate. With char- 
acteristic readiness he lost not a moment in carrying his plan 
into execution. Taking a small short cord, he fastened it to 
the lower bolt confining the rudder to the stern; seizing the 
other end of the cord and unshipping the rudder, with a loud 
splash he plunged into the water, just as a summons to yield 
himself, mixed with a volley of Spanish imprecations, came 
from the rapidly advancing felucca. Drawing himself up by 
the cord, he allowed his body to sink until his mouth came a 
litwle above the surface of the water, while his head was 
securely concealed in the black shadow cast by the square- 
raking stern that projected several feet beyond the bolt to 
which the cord was attached. 

The little vessel, no longer governed by the rudder, at 
once broached to, and her sail being taken aback, she lost 
headway and lay boxing about in the light breeze. In a few 
moments the felucca was alongside; but mindful of the young 
Englishman’s prowess, her crew were at first rather cautious 
about coming very close, and it was some little time before 
th y ascertained ihit the boat was empty. Great was their 


20 


THE BERBER. 


astonishment, and not less their rage, at this sudden disap- 
pearance of their prey. They strained their eyes in vain 
over the dark surface of the water; they held their breaths 
and listened intently; but the idea of anyone undertaking to 
reach the shore by swimming was too preposterous. There 
could be but one opinion in relation to the case. The vile 
heretic, in utter contempt of the Holy Office, had preferred 
drowning himself to submitting to the tender mercies of the 
co vvled council at Xerez de la Fronterra. 

Maledictions rest on his soull” exclaimed one of the two 
familiars accompanying the party; he has escaped us; he 
must have jumped overboard when we heard that' plunge in 
the water. No doubt heTied the anchor to his body, and is 
now a hundred fathoms deep, at least.” 

Just like all those cursed Englishmen,” replied his com- 
panion. They think nothing of committing suicide. I’ve 
been told that, in their own country, more than half of 
them cut their throats or drown themselves before they are 
thirty years old.” 

^‘’Tis their climate,” interrupted a grim ruffian; ^MVe 
been there. Caramba I what clouds and fogs.” 

Partly their climate, but more their religion,” returned 
the official. ‘‘They are heretics, and knowing they must go 
to hell at any rate, they don’t care when or how.” 

After some debate, it was decided to take the boat in tow 
and row back to the city. Securely hidden in the deep 
shadow under the overhanging stern, the young man listened 
10 the conversation carried on above him with no little inter- 
est. He had confidently speculated upon his pursuers aban- 
doning the boat when they should find that he had disap- 
peared, and that with him had gone both oars and rudder. 
In which case he could easily regain his position in the boat, 
and wait until the morning sea-breeze should set him back 
to the shore. The proposition to take his boat in tow of the 
felucca somewhat disturbed his plans; but still he trusted to 
his ability to maintain his position until near enough to the 
shore, and then to quietly slip his hold and gain a landing 
by swimming. There was the prospect of a good salt-water 
drenching, but the water was warm, the surface smooth, the 
air balmy and delicious. His, too, were a constitution and 
a frame that could endure any amount of exposure to the 
elements; and, as to the muscular exertion necessary to 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


21 


maintain his position, his body was so supported by the 
water, that he had no doubt of his ability to hold on for four 
or five hours at the least. Congratulating himself upon the 
success, so far, of his bfid experiment, he surrendered himself 
with good heart to be towed back to land. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Steadily the crew of the felucca tugged at their oars, but 
with such a drag upon their efforts, as the boat with the 
body of the young Englishman hanging from the stern, their 
movements through the water were necessarily slow. The 
uncommon degree of resistance arising from an apparently 
light, empty boat, at length began to attract attention, 
which would probably have resulted in an investigation into 
the cause ; but luckily the eyes of all on board the felucca 
were suddenly drawn to a large vessel lying close to on their 
larboard bow. So rapidly and imperceptibly had she glided 
down upon them, that she seemed almost to have started up 
from the bosom of the ocean, like some marine apparition — • 
the ghost of a galley — long, low, lateen-rigged, with'' three 
masts, and capable of rowing, when necessary, full forty 
heavy sweeps. 

The crew of the felucca involuntarily rested on their oars. 
For a few moments all was dark and silent aboard the strange 
craft. Suddenly, a hoarse hail, in Spanish, came across the 
water. 

“Boat ahoy I what boat is that? Come alongside of us. 
I wish to speak to you I” 

A shudder ran through the crew of the felucca, as the 
ominous order fell upon their ears. The command was 
given in good Spanish, but there was some slight peculiarity 
of tone and pronunciation that, combined with the suspi- 
cious looks of the strange craft, instantaneously carried con- 
viction and consternation to each heart on board of the 
felucca. 

Los piratosP'^ whispered one; Los Moros! — Santa 
Maria purisinia ! — the Moors! the Moors 1’^ 

“Stretch out — for your lives! — while I will cast off the 
boat,’’ exclaimed Don Diego, his teeth fairly chattering wiih 
fear. 


22 


THE BERBER. 


The men dropped their sweeps into the water, and thfe^? 
their whole weight and strength with desperate energy upon 
them, while Don Diego, with shaking hands, endeavored in 
vain to undo the knot fastening the painter of the boat to the 
stern of the felucca. He drew his dagger to cut the rope; 
but, in his agitation, it fell from his hand. Before he could 
recover it, the sharp report of a bra^^s culverin, from the fore- 
castle of the strange galley, made him drop beside it, para- 
lyzed with terror. The ball, striking the water a few yards 
from the felucca, and rebounding, dashed an oar-blade to 
splinters, and passed on directly over the heads of the panic- 
stricken crew. 

Malditos perrosP"* shouted the voice from the galley, 

unbelieving dogs — hounds — Kaffirs — do you dare 1 Round 
to, this instant, and come alongside, or I’ll blow your boat 
out of the water 1” 

There was no escape. A few strokes of the oars put the 
felucca alongside of the galley, and directly beneath the eyes 
of a formidable row of fellows, in high fez- caps, who were 
looking over the low bulwarks. With sundry imprecations, 
in Spanish and Arabic, Don Diego and his companions were 
ordered on deck, where, after undergoing a slight examina- 
tion as to their character and circumstances, before the Bash 
sota Rais, or first lieutenant of the galley, the sailors were 
chained to several oars that happened to be wanting their 
usual complement o,f men; while the Don and his agents, the 
familiars of the Holy Office, were stripped of their arms and 
most of their clothing, manacled and thrust, with no very 
tender regard to their bones, down into a hole under the 
forecastle. 

In the meantime, Edward, taking advantage of the dark- 
ness, and of the fact that the stern of his boat was close in 
under the counter of the galley, let go his hold, and with a 
single stroke of his arms gained the rudder, where holding on 
by the rope-gammoning— that instead of iron-pintals served 
to fasten the rudder to the stern-post — he resolved to await 
the movements of the Moors in relation to the boats. Should 
they cut them adriit, he held himself in readiness to float off 
quietly in time so as not to lose sight of them, and when at a 
proper distance, to regain one of them by swimming. 
Luckily the young man’s resohr .cjfn contemplated the possi- 
bility of the boats being detained by the pirates, and his 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


23 


change of position from the stern of his own boat to the 
rudder of the galley was effected just in time. After secur- 
ing their prisoners, the Moorish captain ordered the felucca 
to be stripped of sails and oars. A few blows with an axe 
knocked a hole through her planking below the water line, 
and she was cast off to fill and sink, while the small boat was 
hauled alongside and hoisted on board. 

The situation of Edward was now, to him at least, one of 
peculiar interest. In tow of the felucca, his mind had been 
almost wholly concentrated upon the one single chance of 
escape; but, perched on the rudder of a Salee rover, there 
was mingled, with a certain sense of security for the present 
and apprehension for the future, a decided sentiment of curi- 
osity as to the next movement in the march of his fate. 

What was to be the termination of his adventures ? How 
was he to escape from his present position ? He knew not ; 
but he resolved to quietly await events until morning, and, if 
nothing happened in the meantime, then to drop into the 
water, stretch out from the galley, hail her, and be picked 
up as if from a shipwreck. In this way he should enlist in 
fiis favor whatever of humanity the pirates might possess. 

The commotion in the cruiser occasioned by the capture 
of the boats gradually subsided. The wind freshened a little, 
and the pirates eased off their sheets — standing down the 
coast, but heading a little more off the land. A light streamed 
from the cabin windows of the galley. By the occasional 
shadows mingled with the flickering reflection on the water 
astern, Edv/ard could perceive that several persons were 
moving about the cabin. At length all was motionless — 
one shadow, however, in which the young man could easily 
trace the outline of a head and shoulders, rested upon the 
illuminated space of waters. Some one was seated at the 
open port above him — who could it be? Was it the cap- 
tain of the corsair ? Edward felt his curiosity aroused, and 
instinctively he extended his hand to grasp the heavy mould- 
ings on the raking stern above him. His motions were 
arre:>ted by a low voice issuing from the port : 

“ En Paris esta Dona Alda, la espousa de Don Roldan, 
Trecientas damas con ella, para la accompanar 
Todas visten un vestido, todas calgan un cal9ar.” 


24 


THE BERBER, 


“ In Paris sits the lady that shall be Sir Rol^d’s bride ; 

Three hundred damsels with her, her bidding to abide : 

All clothed in the same fashion, both the mantle and the shoon ; 

All eating at one table within her hall at noon.” 

It was an old and familiar ballad of his childhood — the 
first Spanish song that his mother had learned after her ar- 
rival at Cadiz, and one that she had frequently sung to her 
children. Edward’s desire to take a look at the singer was 
enhanced ten-fold. At this moment, the head was withdrawn 
from the port, and the lamplight streamed clear again upon 
the glancing waters of the galley’s wake. 

By clinging to the mouldings of the stern, and supporting 
his feet upon the head, or shoulder rather, of the rudder, Ed- 
ward was enabled to reach nearly to what was really the taff- 
rail of the galley, and above which were the windows of the 
light poop-cabin. Directly upon this taffrail was stepped the 
small mast supporting the hindermost of the three latteen 
yards. From the belayihg-pins above hung the end of one 
of the halyards, within tempting proximity to his hand. By 
letting go his hold upon the mouldings, he could easily grasp 
it, and haul himself up to the ledge of the taffrail on a level 
with the cabin windows. Should he attempt it ? What if the 
rope should give way, and let him into the water ? What if 
he should be discovered by the inmate of the cabin, or by 
some one on the deck above? He withdrew himself to his 
original position in the rudder chains, and turned the argu- 
ment over in his mind. Again he heard a deep low voice 
humming the familiar air: 

“ En Paris esta Dona Alda, la espousa de Don Roldan.” 

Creeping up again by the mouldings, the young man 
poised his body for a moment, and then watching the slight 
lurching motion of the vessel, let go his hold and sprang at 
the rope. His grasp was successful, and the rope proved to 
be firmly fastened above. Waiting until the oscillatious, 
occasioned by the projection of his body from beneath the 
raking stern, had ceased, he quietly drew himself up four or 
five feet, when he found no difficulty in transferring himself 
from the rope to the ledge of the taffrail, and directly 
between the two windows of the cabin: and all this with so 
little noise or disturbance as to have excited no attention 
from either cabin or deck. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


25 


Naturally reckless^ and adventurous, Edward felt quite 
elated at the success, so far, of the movement he had made. 
His spirits rose with his elevation above the increasing swell 
of the ocean, and in congratulating himself upon his dry and 
secure seat, he almost forgot the danger of the first part of 
the night, or the apprehension of the consequences of dis- 
covery when the morning should break. His position was 
one of decided advantage; seated on the taffrail, and sup- 
ported by a grasp upon the foot of the mizzen-mast, but con- 
cealed by the slightly raking rise of the cabin from view 
above deck, he had but to lean a little on either side to look 
into the two open ports from which streamed the bright 
lamplight. 

Cautiously he lowered himself till his eyes commanded a 
view of the interior. It was a small apartment, about ten or 
twelve feet square. In front, a silken curtain looped a^ide, 
showed a small door opening apparently into a forward cabin ; 
on either side were arched recesses, canopied and shaded by 
curtains, in which were placed low couches. A thick Moorish 
carpet, of brilliant colors, covered the floor, the centre of 
which was occupied by a low table, hardly a foot in height. 
Above this table, suspended from one of the carlings, hung a 
large copper lamp. Upon the table lay several books, some 
in manuscript and mounted upon gilded rollers, and others 
evidently in print from their Spanish bindings. At one angle 
of the low table was a pile of gilt morocco cushions, and upon 
these reclined, in an easy attitude, the sole occupant of the 
cabin. 

He was a young man of twenty-five or six years, dressed 
in Moorish garb. Leaning with one elbow upon the low 
table, he was intently engaged in poring over a large volume 
that was open before him. His side-lace was turned to the 
stern port, and the bright light of the lamp falling full upon 
his features, revealed them with perfect distinctness to the 
fascinated gaze of the young Englishman. There was the high 
square forehead set off by the folds of a turban of red silk — 
there were the straight brows — the aquiline nose — the well- 
turned mouth — the full brown beard — the bronzed but ruddy 
cheeks — in fact the very features and expression of Edward 
himself. Like an electric flash, the conviction that he saw 
before him his brother — his long-lost twin-brother — burst 
upon Edward’s mind, sending the blood tingling to every 


26 


THE BERBER, 


vein, and making his laboring heart beat audibly beneath the 
overwhelming rush of feeling. 

The Moor raised his eyes from the volume, threw himself 
back upon the cushions, and for a moment appeared lost in 
thought — 

“ En Paris esta Dona Alda, la espousa de Don Roldan.’^ 

he sang* in a low voice that had, to Edward’s ear, something 
more than familiar in it — it seemed almost as if he were sing- 
ing himself. There was' no longer a doubt. That turbaned 
and caftaned singer could be none other than the long-lost 
Henry Carlyle. 

The first impulse of the young Englishman was to thrust 
himself through the open port, and grasp the singer’s hand; 
but would he recollect his brother ? Would he acknowledge 
the tie of blood ? Would the heart of the Mohammeden open 
itself to a reviler of the Prophet ? 

Pausing until he could command h . . voice, Edward turned 
over in his mind a dozen different plans and modes of making 
his presence known to his unconscious relative, but at last he 
concluded that the most direct way would be the best. 
Keeping his head concealed in shadow, he applied his mou*h 
to an angle of the port, and, in a low voice, uttered his 
brother’s name. 

Henry! Henry Carlyle!’’ 

The reclining figure started to his feet, his handsome fea- 
tures expressing the height of astonishment and awe. 

What name is that? who calls?” he demanded, in Span- 
ish, at the same time instinctively stretching out his arm to 
a jewel-headed sabre that hung against the rudder-casing. 

^^^Tis I — Edward — the brother of Henry Carlyle! ” 

The Moor took a step towards the window, and stopped, 
bending forward in an eager but hesitating attitude. 

‘‘Edward?” he whispered; “do I dream? yes, his name 
was Edward. Ah! what memories come over me; and mine 
— mine was Henry — Henry Carlyle! ” 

“Listen, then,” replied Edward; “’tis no spirit from the 
dead who is addressing you; ’tis your brother. You remem- 
ber playing on the beach above Rota; the Moors came upon 
you and carried you off; ’tis many years since you saw your 
brother; think you that you would know him if you should 
see him again ? ” 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


27 


Ka! this is no dream,” muttered the Moor to himself; 

my brain is clear, and that voice strikes upon my ear as 
distinctly as if it were a human voice. Surely this must be 
what the Moors so dread — a visitation — a temptation. Know 
my brother?” continued the speaker, raising his voice, 

know Edward? at once — among ten thousand.” 

Look at him, then,” and Edward, turning and clinging 
to the port-sill, thrust his head through the window into the 
bright lamp-light. 

Instantly the gleam of steel flashed upon his eyes. Bzs- 
inillah! in the nam^ of God,” exclaimed the Moor, and step- 
ping forward, he swung his scimitar lightly in the air, and 
directed a blow full at Edward’s defenceless head. Luckily 
the cabin was low, and the blow was partly arrested by the 
Carlings above, and by the rudder-case at the side, but still, 
descending with considerable force, the keen blade glanced 
along the bones of the temple, inflicting a savage-looking 
wound, from whicn spouted the blood in torrents. 

The Moor did not repeat the stroke, although Edjvard, 
somewhat stunned by the unexpected blow, fell forward across 
the port-Sill, and presented a still fairer mark. With an air 
of increasing astonishment, he stood gazing at the flowing 
blood, while Edward, recovering himself, but faint and giddy, 
raised his discolored face, and looked at him with a most re- 
proachful but affectionate glance; ‘‘Henry! dear Henry!” 
he murmured. 

“ You are not then a djin? an afrite? a vision of sheitan?'*'* 
eagerly demanded the Moor. 

“lam your brother! — flesh and blood — your own twin- 
brother,” replied Edward, dropping his head again, and 
clutching, with uncertain gra^p, upon the side of the port, to 
keep himself from falling. 

Henry — for we may now call him so, at least until we get 
a more distinctive name — advanced a step, and stretching 
out his arm, touched his brother’s hand just as the relaxing 
muscles were giving way. The instant that he did so all un- 
certainty seemed to vanish from his mind. Flinging aside 
his scimitar, he rapidly passed his arm out of the port, encir- 
cled his brother’s form, and drew him quickly but gently 
through the window into the cabin. He stretched him upon 
the cushions, and then, like one accustomed to wounds, he 
proceeded to stanch the bleeding, which he easily did by 


28 


THE BERBER, 


restorins: the divided scalp to its place, and securing it by 
several folds of the turban that he unwound from his own head. 
A vessel of water stood within reach. The Moor applied it 
to his brother’s lips. Edward’s insensibility was the result 
rather of the sudden shock to the nervous system, than of loss 
of blood. It was the slight faintness that even the strongest 
fr^es will sometimes feel w^hen wounded, and the taste of 
the water instantly revived him. Edward sat up, and taking 
jhis brother’s hand, looked him calmly in the face. Henry 
kneeled upon the cushions, returned his brother’s grasp, and 
gazed upon him long and steadily. 

It was a striking picture — those two brothers, so alike, yet 
so different — so long separated, and so strangely re-united — 
as they sat thus, hand in hand, gazing at each other with 
looks of mingled wonder, curiosity and affection. 

At length the Moorish brother spoke, as if in answer to 
Edward’s look ; ‘ ^ I thought you were a djin, an evil spirit that 
is permitted to assume the form and voice of mortals to tempt 
us to destruction. My companions talk much of them, and 
they say that the only way to receive them is with a blow of 
the scimitar, when they will vanish. You are no djin — no 
spirit — I feel your heart beat — I have seen your blood flow ! ” 
and the Moorish brother placed his arm over Edw^ard’s neck, 
and pressed him to his breast. 

But if you are no djin,” he exclaimed, suddenly starting 
and withdrawing his arm, ‘Med me how it is that you are 
here ? Whence came you? By what means ? ” 

“Listen, dearest Henry,” replied Edward, “and I will 
quiet all your doubts. You shall know how unexpectedly and 
strangely, but how easily and naturally it happens that I find 
myself here. And then you shall tell me your story. Y'ou 
must recollect that, although I apprehend nothing of the su- 
pernatural in it, your being here is as much a matter of curi- 
osity and wonder to me as my presence can be to you.” 

Edward ran over the principal circumstances that had 
conspired to place him in his present position. He ?poke of 
his father; of his own life in England; his recent return to 
Cadiz, of his relations to Isabel; of the jealousy of Don 
Diego ; of his adventurous visit to the quinta of the Guadalete ; 
the chase ; his expedient to escape ; and his change of position 
from the stern of the small boat to the rudder of the galley. 
He spoke of his feelings when his brother’s familiar voice 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


29 


came to his ear — and that voice singing a ballad of his child- 
hood ; of his climbing from the rudder to thetalfrail; and of 
the overruling conviction of his brother s identity, that rushed 
upon him at sight of his features. f 

The Moor listened to his brother’s tale with an expression 
of increasing tenderness and interest, until Edward came to 
where he plunged overboard to avoid the felucca, when all 
doubts seemed at once to vanish, and he again passed his arm 
a' ound his brother, and gazed in silence into his face. As 
Edward finished, he deliberately pressed him to his heart, 
kissed him several times on eyes, cheeks, and hands, and 
uttering a profession of somewhat stately but hearty terms of 
endearment, he expre sed his sorrow for the hostile attitude 
he had at first assumed. 

I was thinking of you at the very instant when you spoke,’’ 
said Henry. ‘‘ Could I doubt that it was some evil spirit that 
had come to mock me? But never before did I believe in 
djins, though the Moors are continually seeing them; and I 
am sure now I never shall again. But come, you must change 
your wet clothes; here are dry garments of the Moorish fash- 
ion, you need feel none the less like a Christian in them, 
than if they were made in Cadiz. 

And now, oh son of my mother ! ” continued Henry, 
placing the cushion beneath his brother’s reclining figure, 
‘‘ you are anxious to hear something of my history; answer 
me first, however, one question — you have mentioned the 
name of but one of our parents — What of the other ? What 
of my mother ? ” 

She is in Heaven!” replied Edward. 

The Moorish brother covered his face for a moment with 
his hand. God is great! ” he exclaimed, raising his head 
and speaking in a calm voice, but v/ith a slight quivering of 
the lip that betokened the deep emotion within. ‘‘ God is 
great ! and thus passes the chief hope of my life. I’ll ques- 
tion you further of this some other time. Now, I will tell 
you my story, for which a few words will suffice. 

Hast ever heard,” continued the speaker, ^‘oF Hassan 
Herach ? ’’ 

What, the Salee rover ? the terror of the seas ? the dread 
of the Spaniards for miles inland ? Yes, I have heard of him. 
I have heard a Spanish mother still her crying infant with his 
name in the heart of Castile.’’ 


30 THE BERBER, 

^‘Well, and now you see him,” replied Henry, I am 
Hassan Herach. Listen, and I will tell you how, by God’s 
will, I came to be so.” 

But it will be, perhaps, less tedious, to give the substance 
of Hassan’s story than his exact words, and to this purpose 
we shall devote the commencement of a new chapter. 


CHAPTER V. 

Leave the determination of our course to the winds,” re- 
plied Genserie to his pilots when departing from the pons of 
Barbary upon one of his frequent piratical expeditions to the 
northern shores of the Mediterranean. They will conduct 
us to the guilty coasts whose inhabitants have provoked the 
j ustice of Heaven.” Genserie was an Arian, and religious hate 
animated the barbarian monarch and his Vandalic and Moor- 
ish followers in their desolating forays upon the coasts of the 
Italian peninsula and islands, much as a love of plunder or 
a thirst for blood. To him succeeded a still more bigoted, 
ferocious, and piratical race, who, even more than Genserie, 
imagined themselves the instruments of divine vengeance 
against the Christians, and the authorized punishers of all 
who denied the sanctity of the Prophet. For several centuries 
their corsairs, varying in number^* and in energy with the 
varying political circumstances of Europe and Barbary , swept 
the narrow seas of the Mediterranean, and carried terror and 
dismay to the hearts of all the dwellers by the shore. It was 
not, however, the littoral towns and villages alone thatsuffered. 
Like the great pirate we have mentioned, whose bands for 
fourteen days and nights revelled amid the despoiled palaces 
and temples of. imperial Rome, the Mohammedan corsairs of 
Barbary frequently extended their incursions to some distance 
inland; sacking and burning the villages and even cities, and 
securing and carrying off their plunder and slaves before a 
'force could be assembled to prevent or punish. 

Nor were their depredations confined to the Mediter- 
ranean. In 1585, the famous Morat Rais led the way into 
the Atlantic and plundered the Island of Lancerote, one of 
the Canaries. Following his example, the Algerine and 
Neapolitan cruisers frequently passed the Straits of Gibraltar, 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


while the rovers of Morocco, issuing from their western 
por:s, swept the ocean with unflagging energy from the Caoe 
de Verds to the English Channel. They even extended 
their depredations to the shores of the Baltic and the Banks 
of Newfoundland; and upon one occasion visited Iceland 
and carried off several hundred captives. ' 

In the present day we can only wonder that such a system 
of depredation should have been tolerated by the Christian 
powers of Europe, and that, too, down until within half a 
century of our own time; but the disgraceful fact is, no 
doubt, attributable to the jealousies of the great nations, and 
to their almost continual wars, to which, in addition to the 
millions of deaths, and vast amount of misery thus directly 
caused, must be charged the sufferings of hundreds of thou- 
sands of both sexes and all ages, who, in consequence of 
these wars, were allowed to be torii from country and friends 
and drag out their miserable existence as slaves among the 
Cdnstian-hating fanatics of Barbary. 

At no time, from the days of Genseric, had the depreda- 
tions of the corsairs of Morocco been prosecuted with greater 
energy and boldness, especially upon the coasts of Sp lin 
than during the half century previous to the date of oi r 
story. In the days of the Barbarossas and the famous cor- 
sairs Drub-devil and Dragut Rais, piracy within the Straits 
wa^ conducted, it is true, on a grander scale: whole fleets 
issuing from the ports of Algiers, Tunis and Tripoli, sancti- 
fying, or at least dignifying, their expeditions with the pre- 
tensions of regular war. The ports of Morocco, however 
were always too small to admit the formation of large fleets’ 
and the exertions of maritime adventurers were necessarily 

® at most to small squadrons of 

two or three galleys. 

It was upon a visit of one of the corsairs issuing from the 
famoiK port of Salee to the coast of Spain, that, as we have 

®arn>d English merchant was seized and 

carried off The captain of the -galley was renowned for his 
cruelty and his bitter hatred of the Christians, but there was 
“ the appearance of Henry Carlyle that touched 
the latent sensibihties of the old Moor’s heart; and instead of 
Stripped of his fine clothes, and confined 
ratin Other captives, he took the terrified boy into his 
cabin, and with unceasing assiduity endeavored for weeks 


32 


THE BERBER, 


and months to soothe his distress and to reconcile him to his 
chanee of life. 

And not wiihout success were (he exertiors of his captor. 
H nry v too ycun.cr and too impres-iible no: to yitld him- 
self readily to the influences at work upon h m; and before 
the cruise was half over, be had become quite reconciled to 
his fa e. The Moorish officers were invariably kind to him; 
as much so for his own sake, as in obedience to the expressed 
wishes of their grim captain, who had announced his inten- 
tion of adopting the child as his own son. With the men, 
Henry soon became a general favorite, makins; equal pro- 
gress in their language and their affections. They were de- 
lighted with his good lookS; his activity and strength, and 
especially with his religion. Not being a Roman Catholic, 
they could hardly believe that he was a Christian; while, at 
the same time, it was clear that he was not a Mohammedan, 
and therefore a tempting prize to the active proselyting 
desires of the disciples of the Prophet. This invested him 
with a degree of interest which for no orthodox Moorish 
juvenile could have been aroused. 

Happily or otherwise, as the reader may think, the child 
had imbibed no strong prejudices against the Moors. Had 
he been of Spanish parentage, he would have learned 
equally to fear and detest them; hut his parents were English 
and Protestant, and what had been excited in his little breast 
of national and religious animosity, was directed mainly 
against the Papists of Spain. On the one hand, he had often 
seen his father’s countenance troubled, and his temper 
aroused at some act of imposture or injustice, some imperti- 
nent interference in his business, or some unwarrantable ex- 
action upon his gains; while on the other, his imagination 
was often excited by his mother’s description of the glories 
of Spain under the Moors, and his sympathies aroused for 
the unfortunate followers of the Prophet by her glowing stories 
of the sufftring attending their final subjection and expulsion. 
Dislike of the Spaniards who were around her, addetl to the 
strong prejudice entertained in that age by all ot her cour;t y- 
men ior a nation that had loaded a fleet with instruments of 
torture for English heretics, made her sympathize deeply 
with the former masters of Andalusia, and she loved to, sing 
old Moorish ballads, and to dwell upon the days when the 
land, in its whole length, was cultivated like a garden— when 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


33 


Andalusia boasted of its seventy public libraries, and Cordova 
alone could show its list of over two hundred authors of re- 
pute. 

Judging from his dress, and other indications, that the 
wealth of his parents would enable them to exert every influ- 
ence for the recovery of their child, and that most probably 
the Sultan himself would be induced to take an interest in 
the affair, the captain of the corsair, immediately upon the 
arrival of his galley at Salee, dispatched his prize to a dis- 
tant, half Berber, half Arabic village, in the mountains of 
Tedla, where, for two years, he was kept closely concealed. 
At the end of this period the Moorish captain, having ascer- 
tained from the Spanish friars of the Redemption, at 
Mequinez, that all search for him had been abandoned, he 
was taken back to Salee, where, for some time, he was kept 
under the tuition of a pious Mollah. The instructions of 
the worthy expounder of the Koran were thought essential, 
inasmuch as his religious education had been sacrificed to 
the necessity of concealing him from the energetic search of 
his friends; and he had been allowed to run wild with the 
boys of a Berber village, that, like a few other places in the 
mountains of Atlas, was suspected of retaining a remnant of 
paganism, or still worse, of Christianity. 

When sufficiently instructed in the language and doctrines 
of the Koran, he was taken, in grand procession, to the 
Mosque, and with the customary ceremonies, confirmed in 
the true faith. From this time he accompanied his so-called 
father in his voyages, and was engaged in numerous adven- 
tures off the coast of Spain and Portugal, which* it is not 
iieceosary here to relate. He hated the Spaniards, and he 
hatei Papists — wnile he had just enough Mohammedanism 
to overlay his unformed notions of Protestant Christianity, 
and to make him sceptical in all matters of religious belief. 

A few books ihat tell into his hands, and the occasional 
conversation of two or three English slaves, kept up s niie 
recollection of his mothers tongue, although iii time he lust 
so much of It that he could by no means express his thoughts 
as fluently in Englidi as he could in Spanish, which then, as 
now, owing to the expulsion of the Morescos and Jews from 
Spain and their settlement in Barbary, was almost as common 
as Arabic in the seaport towns. 

One recollection, however, never faded — the recollection 


34 


THE- BERBER, 


of his mother, Language, religion, country, all grew dim 
and distant on the waste of memory, but the image of his 
mother retained its brightness. He had cherished it in his 
heart of hearts. 

‘‘ Why, then,” demanded Edward, breaking in upon his 
brother’s story. Why did you never return to her ? Why 
did you never seek lo know whether she still lived ?’’ 

‘^’Twas impossible,” replied Hassan; 'Mhough ever loved 
and trusted, 1 have always been closely watched. I soon 
found that not onfy my adopted father, but all the Moors 
around me were jealous of even the slightest recollection of 
my early boyhood.” 

But now — here — are you not master?” demanded Ed- 
ward. 

‘‘ The Sultan in his court at Mequinez has not more un- 
limited and despotic power,” replied Hassan. “My crew 
obey me as the veriest slaves Upon the death of my Moor- 
ish father, some three years since, I succeeded to the com- 
mand of this galley, and since then never on the decks of 
this craft, aye, or even in the streets of Salee, has a breath of 
opposition dared raise itself to command of mine. But still 
my Christian origin is known, and although no one dreams 
of any Christian sympathies on my part, yet I have ever felt that 
I could tak-e no steps to ascertain the existence of my parents 
without at once arousing suspicion; and suspicion of my mo- 
tives once excited, I should have been powerless. I should 
have sunk at once into the class of renegades — the most mis- 
erable, helpless, and closely watched subjects of the Sultan.” 

“ But did you never meet \yith captives from Cadiz ?” in- 
quired Edward. 

, “Often,” replied Hassan, “but never with one who could 
give me any account of my family, and not one to whom I 
dared intrust a message. 

“No,” he continued, after a pause, “it would have been 
risking too much. I^am rais or captain of this galley, and 
my true policy has been to strengthen myself in the affec- 
tions and admiration of those I command, until my motives 
of action should become questionless, and my will should 
become law. Then the means of opening a communication 
with family or country would be within my control. Praise 
be to Allah, that time has nearly arrived. My presence here 
to-night in these waters is a marked deviation from the plan 


A TALE OF -MOROCCO. 


35 


of the cruise laid out for-thc galley. I made it in hopes of 
picking up some boat off the mouth of the bay, from whose 
crew I might perchance learn something of the news from 
Cadiz. Little did I dream that my change of course would 
be rewarded by the recovery of a brother. Allah Akbar! 
Allah Akbar I God is great. Oh, thou son of my mother!” 
and Hassan again threw his arms affectionately around the 
reclining form of his brother. 

Starting to his feet, Hassan, as we shall in future call him, 
looked out from the stern port, athwart which the first faint 
gleams of morning were beginning to dart. 

‘‘Pardon me, O thou newly found half of my heart,” he 
exclaimed, turning to his brother, “ I thought not how 
swiftly time was passing. You need both food and rest.” 

Saying this, he unlocked the door opening into the for- 
ward cabin, and clapping his hands thrice, in a few moments 
a negro, habited in Moorish garb, drew up the heavy wooden 
latch and looked in. Holding the half-open door in hand, 
he was in the act of shuffling off his loose yellow slippers 
preparatory to entering, when his motions were arrested by 
the sight of Edward reclining upon the cushions. His big 
eyes dilated with wonder as they turned from one brother to 
the other. An impatient gesture from his master made him 
enter and close the door. 

“Selim,” said the rais, speaking in Arabic, “ you see my 
brother — no matter how or when he came — I wish his coming 
to remain secret. See that no one enters this apartment; I 
intrust his secret to your oi^arge, and, mark you, if a rumor 
of it reaches the men — ” And here the captain made a sig- 
nificant gesture with his hand to his neck. 

Selim bowled his head submissively. 

“ Worse for you!” continued the captain, “you know that 
I am a sorcerer.” 

‘* Allah aleni! God knows,” exclaimed Selim. 

“ Yes, and you know, too; or you think that you do. 
Look at those books.” 

Selim rolled his eyes over the table and shuddered. 

“Well, if a word of the presence of my brother here 
escapes you, I shall not cut off your head, or bow-string you, 
or burn your tongue out, but — how would you like to be 
turned into a white man and a Christian ?” 

“Allah forbid!” exclaimed Seim, raising both handi to 

I 


3 ^ 


THE BERBER, 


Heaven, and rapidly repeating the short formula of Moham- 
medan faith. 

Go, then, and may your lips be sealed with the signet of 
silence. Go, bring food, and prepare some coffee — or e^tay, 
perhaps my brother would like a cup of the great drink of 
the Ciiinese. Bring hot water and the vessels for tea.'’ 

In a few minutes, Selim returned with a small silver urn, 
and a set of diminutive cups, not much larger than thimbles. 
Placing them upon the table, he stepped back with a low 
salaam, and squatted quietly by the door, while his master, 
producing a small canister of tea — an article then, as now, in 
greater favor with the Moors than with any Christian peop’e, 
except the English, although, of course, less in vogue then 
wdth either, than in the present day — and turning some of it 
directly into the urn of hot water, proceeded to add a 
quantity of coarse white sugar, stirring the while, and pour- 
ing in the sugar until the beverage was nearly of the consis- 
tency of a syrup. 

Half a dozen tiny cups, such as among the Maroquiens to 
this day are the fashion, filled with this beverage, with a few 
rolls of wheaten pancake made thin as a wafer, and fried in 
a mixture of honey and butter, sufficed for the young Eng- 
glishman. It was not much that he ate or drunk, but it was 
enough to restore his strength, and to reassure the staring 
Selim, dissipating his doubts as to the corporeal nature of 
the young stranger, and enabling him to assist, with a tremb- 
ling hand, in a more thorough dressing of Edward’s wounds. 

Breakfast having been despatAed and the operation of 
carefully dressing the wound finished, Edward retired to one 
of the couches; the curtains were drawn over the opening to 
the recess, and the Moorish captain went on deck to super- 
intend the alterations in the sails, rendered necessary by the 
increasing force and more northerly direction of the wind. 

All day the swift galley flew before the stiff favoring 
breeze, until, just at sunset, the look-out caught sight of the 
famous Sma Hassan^'* a lofty tower that, peering far above 
the battlements of Rabat, serves as a landmark to vessels 
approaching the entrance to the river dividing that town 
from Salee. It was too late, even had the tide served, to 
think of crossing the bar, at the mouth of the river, and the 
crew of the galley were compelled to heave-to about midnight. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


37 


over a small insulated sand-bank, and to cast over a grapnel 
to keep themselves from drifting into the line of breakers. 

Having secured his vessel, and prepared everything for 
sweeping her into the harbor, at early dawn, the Moorish 
captain retired into his cabin. A long consultation ensaed 
between the brothers, as to the course that should be adopted 
to save Edward from being claimed by any of the several 
owners of the galley, as a slave. 

I could save you,’’ said Hassan, by an acknowledgment 
of our relationship, and by a resolute exertion of my influence 
and power, but I could hardly save you from the annoyances 
of curiosity and bigotry. Besides, I should not prefer to 
risk my influence just now — we may need it all for your ulti- 
mate escape.” 

It was decided, therefore, that Edward should keep close 
in the cabin until night, and then landing, set out at once 
for the royal city of Mequinez, about sixty miles from Salee. 

“ Selim shall accompany you as servant and interpreter. 
He will do all the talking — if spoken to, you must affect to 
be dumb. You will proceed directly to the house of Abdallah 
Ibn Asken, a merchant, to whom I \Yill give you a letter. He 
is an acquaintance of my boyhood; I have not seen him since 
I have become a man, but I have been in correspondence 
with him, and have more than once been of service to him 
in some delicate negotiations with Christians, wherein he 
dare not trust his countrymen or the Jews. I know that I can 
rely upon his disposition to serve me. He will receive you, 
and in a few days I will come up to Mequinez and make 
further arrangements for your safety.” 

Agreeably to this plan, the galley at daylight was swept in 
through the breakers on the bar, by the full force of forty 
oars, and carried up the stream, where it was beached, as if 
by accident, some distance beyond the line of the water-gate. 
The prisoners, among whom were Don Diego and his com- 
panions, were taken in custody by the officers of the chief 
kaid of the slaves, hurried ashore amid the jeers and revilings, 
of the mob, and thrust into the large vaults or casements 
constructed in the thickness of the city walls, The cargo 
was landed, the galley-slaves sent on shore, and the galley, 
high and dry at low water, remained, almost deserted by her 
crew, on the sand. 

All was quiet, and the night well advanced when Edward 


38 


THE BERBER, 


drew himself out from his hiding-place, beneath one of the 
couches, and, assisted by his brother, lowered himself with- 
out difficulty from one of the stern-posts to the ground. Selim 
was in waiting at a little distance; and in a few moments 
they were joined by the rais. 

Once clear of the galley, there was no immediate danger 
to apprehend; the party moved rapidly along the water-wall, 
until they reached the entrance to the dry ditch defending 
the town, on the land side. Passing along this for some 
distance, they scrambled up the covered way, and gaining 
the crest of the glacis, made their way through thickets of 
cactus, and then over a large fiat table of rock, until they 
stood beneath the arches of an old Roman aqueduct, about 
a mile from Salee, and along which ran the road to Mequinez. 

At a little distance were picketed two mules. The rais 
assisted his brother to mount. Remember,” he said, 
kissing his hand, “ keep silence, and you are safe. Go, you 
are in the hand of God.” 


CHAPTER VI. . 

It was morning at Mequinez. The sun was just peering 
above the snow-covered, peaks of the Djebel Tedla, and slop- 
ing across the intervening valleys; his beams fell, like a 
shower of gold, upon the minarets of the mosques, and the 
domes and battlements of the royal palace. 

This latter building, or rather assemblage of buildings, was 
situated at the Southern side of the city, and consisted of an 
immense number of rectangular edifices of one story, sur- 
rounding couits and gardens, mingled with square cobahs or 
store-houses for arms and munitions of war. The whole of 
the vast area was environed by a solid wall more than twenty 
feet high, and four miles in circumference. In the centre 
El harem — or ^‘the forbidden” — an oblong building, 
inclosing a sunken garden, half a mile in length, and of a 
proportionate width. Tiie walls were, as in the other edi- 
fices, of tapia^ or mortar moulded in wooden cases. No win- 
dows varied the plain surface of the outside, the light being 
admitted to the long, narrow, lofty rooms, only through the 
doors opening upon the corridors and courts surrounding the 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


39 


gardens. An elevated wooden bridge, covered with lattice- 
work, supported on arches and resting upon slender wooden 
columns, divided the principal garden, and formed a means 
of communication between the opposite sides of the harem. 
In this latticed covered-way it was the custom for the female 
inmates of the harem to pass much of their time, and espe- 
cially to assemble when the Emperor gave audience in the 
garden below. 

Around the harem and communicating with it, by count- 
less intricate passages and courts, was, as we have said, an 
immense number of buildings. An accurate description, 
however, of the whole, is by no means necessary to our pur- 
pose; suffice it to say that the ruins still existing are suffi- 
cient to verify the assertions of several Christian writers, who 
saw it in the days of Muley Ismael, that it was one of tiie 
most magnificent palaces in the world — magnificent, not 
from its external architecture, which was nothing but one 
unvarying system of rectangular, whitew’ashed uniformity, or 
from the beauty of its internal finish — Moorish taste and 
skill having sadly degenerated since the days when men 
traced the beautiful arabesques of the Alhambra — but mag- 
nificent from its extent — from the magnitude and number of 
its tesselated rooms, its paved courts, its gardens, and its 
fountains. 

It was morning at Mequinez. In a large court communi- 
cating with the garden of the harem were assembled all the 
dignitaries of the court. A body of black troops lined each 
side of the square. Four stalwart negroes lounged at a little 
distance from the archway by which the Sultan was expected 
to enter. These were the executioners, the invariable at- 
tendants at a “ meshourah'^'' or royal audience, who at a look 
from their master, could seize the unfortunate subject of the 
monarch’s wrath, and tossing him into the air, let him fall 
so as to break any prescribed number of bones, or to kill him 
outright. 

In front of the arch were gathered tloe officers of the court, 
the chief dignitaries of the city, mingled with kaids and lieu- 
tenant-kaids from Morocco and Fez, and bashaws from the 
provinces of Soos and Tefilet. At a little distance a group of 
four or five Jews in black skull-cap and bornoose, covered in 
deprecating attitude beneath the fierce looks of the -negro 
guard. 


40 


THE BERBER, 


A Striking contrast was that between the insolent air of 
these black barbarians from the further side of the Sahara, 
and the subdued voices and anxious looks of the Maroquien 
courtiers. 

May God prolong the life of the Sultan,” whispered a 
bashaw to the kaid of the gate. Hast thou heard in what 
mood it has placed his majesty to rise this morning ?’’ 

‘‘May the Sultan’s life be prolonged,” replied the kaid, 
“A eunuch just whispered me that it had pleased our Lord 
the Shereef to rise with his sword in his tooth.” 

And the word passed through the groups of anxious offici- 
als that something had gone wrong with his majesty during 
the night, and that probably more than one head would 
ron from its shoulders in token of the Sultan’s displeasure. 

The gates were thrown open, and the Sultan was seen on 
horseback in the middle of a small court, beneath an umbrel- 
la of red silk, which was supported on a long pole by a stal- 
wart negro. The natural ugliness of this umbrella-bearer was 
heightened by innumerable scars, the marks of the scimiter 
with which his services had been frequently rewarded when 
his master could find no one else upon whom to vent his 
wrath. Two or three negroes, with half a dozen renegade 
Christian boys, \vere in attendance, but preserving an un- 
usually respectful distance. 

Muley Ismael, the sixth monarch of the dynasty founded 
upon the subversion of the Oataze by the Shereefs of Tefilet, 
a family so named because claming descent from the Prophet, 
was at this time about seventy years of age. Forty years of 
his life he had passed upon a throne, which, by his talents 
and energy, he had consolidated out of the petty kingdoms 
of Soos, Morocco, Fez and Tefilet. Of a middle size — his 
frame, owing to his extreme temperance, was still vigorous 
and active. He could mount his horse by vaulting, without 
assistance, and could wield his scimiter, if not on the field 
of battle against his enemies, at least in his own court, with 
a degree of skill and force that was perfectly satisfactory to 
his courtiers and friends. His complexion was very dark, 
his mother having been a woman from Soudan, but his fea- 
tures inclined more to the Moorish than to the negro style of 
face. His eyes, black and piercing, sparkled with intelli- 
gence, or gleamed with the most ferocious malice. His mouth 
was wide, and generally distorted by a sardonic grin, while 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


41 


bis toothless gums added to bis disagreeable expression, which 
was somewhat relieved, however, by a snow-white beard. 
His dress was a plain white haick, beneath which was a green 
caftan, and a pair of short wide trousers of woollen. Around 
his waist he wore a silken sash, and a Morocco belt studded 
with jewels, from which depended the scabbard of a diamond- 
hilted scimiter. To the terror of the courtiers it was noticed 
that the color of this sash was yellow, a sure indication that 
the Sultan was in no pleasant humor. Yellow slippers covered 
his feet, and a voluminous turban of hue linen surrounded 
a high-peaked fez. 

The instant the gates were thrown open, the Sultan, instead 
of moving forward with majestic tranquillity at a pace that 
would have allowed his umbrella-bearer to keep up with him, 
stiuck his spurs into his horse, and dashed through the arch- 
way into the court of audience at full speed. As he passed 
the gates, his horse swerved a little, bringing his majesty’s 
foot slightly in contact with the dress of one of the gate- 
keepers. The Sultan threw himself back in the saddle, the 
powerful Moorish bit jerking the horse to his haunches, and 
holding for an instant his fore feet suspended in the air. 
Like a gleam of light, the imperial scimiter descended upon 
the head of the Uiilucky porter and felled him to the earth. 
The next instant the snorting barb leaped beneath the touch 
of the tremendous Moorish rowels, right amid the trembling 
group assembled in the court. And now was presented one 
of those singular scenes which, when occurring in authentic 
history, we read with sentiments of the most profound incre- 
dulity, forgetting that the possessor of perfectly despotic 
power is almost necessarily a madman. 

Long life and health to Sidi! May God preserve Sidi!” 
shouted with one accord the courtiers, at the same time pros- 
trating themselves to the ground, and crouching and cringing 
around the Sultan, endeavoring to touch his feet or to kiss his 
garments or the trappings of his horse. The Sultan, however, 
kept his horse in motion and his scimiter whirling, and it was 
wiih no small expenditure of agility that his courtiers con- 
trived to pay their customary salutations, and yet to preserve 
theif bodies from the horse’s hoofs or their necks from the 
steel. As it wa«, several turbans were already cut throug’n, 
and a dozen ha-cks were s^a ned with blood, when suddenly 
the Sultan checked his horse, and sheathing his scintiter with 


42 


THE BERBER, 


a p[rowl of rage, he passed his hands into the folds of his sash 
and drew out a paper. 

Traitors,” he shouted, glaring round upon his panting 
and terrified court. ‘‘Dogs! whose work is this? Who of 
you has^ dared to sell himself to the Berber 1” and the old 
monarch shook the paper with convulsive energy. 

“Read this,” he exclaimed to an officer who held the office 
of chief kaid of the gate. 

The kaid advanced, took the paper, and after kissing 
the hem of the imperial haick, he read in a loud voice as 
follows : 

“To the powerful Muley Ismael, Emperor of Morocco, 
Soos, and Tefilet, whom God preserve in the paths of justice 
and mercy. Know that thy demand for more tribute than 
the free Amazerg of the hills has of his own accord consented 
to pay, is unjust. Know also that thy design to ravage the 
country of the Ait Amoor is known to me. Be warned in 
time and let there be peace between us. I fear you not, and 
wish you well, in token whereof I pin this paper with my 
dagger to your pillow, and not to your heart. 

“ Casein el Subah.” 

“What think you?” demanded the Sultan, when the kaM 
had finished; “whence' comes this? Who pinned that paper 
to my pillow?” 

May God forever preserve Sidi, but I know not,” replied 
the trembling kaid. 

“Think you it was the Berber chieftain himself?” 

“ God knows,” replied the kaid, falling upon his knees. 

“God knows, but you do not,” growled the Sultan; “ and 
yet you are kaid of the gates.” 

Muley Ismael glared around upon his court with the look 
of a tiger selecting a victim, and then raising his finger, the 
four negroes darted upon the prostrate and grovelling form 
of the unfortunate officer. 

“God is great! and there is no God but God! may he 
lengthen the life of Sidi,” exclaimed the kaid ; but with the 
words in his mouth, his body was whirled aloft on the ex- 
tended arms of the gigantic negroes, and then dashed head 
first with mortal force upon the marble pavement. 

The Sultan stared for a moment, with a grin of man*acal 
rage distorting his tc^thless m^utb, upon the lifeless body 
of the kaid, while the courtiers began to elevate their voice' 


A TALE OF. MOROCCO. 


43 


in express'ons of admiration of his justice and goodness, 
and in wishes for his long life and prosperity. One Moor, 
however, of a dignified mien, and of a complexion that 
would have compared for clearness and whiteness with that 
of the inhabitants of Northern Europe, stood a little apart 
in silence. He either could no'", or would not, join in the 
sycophantic plaudits that were beginning to arise from all 
quarters of the court. 

As the eyes of the monarch turned from the body of the 
kaid, they fell upon the silent figure of the Moor. 

“Hah!” exclaimed the Sultan, “Abdallah ibn Asken! 
what thinkest thou of the justice of the Shereef ?” 

To approve or disapprove, in answer to such a question, it 
was well known to be attended with equal danger, and for a 
moment Abdallah stood without making any reply. 

With a deep-drawn yell of concentrated passion, Muley 
Ismael spurred towards him. “ Dog ! son of a Christian ! — 
you, a descendant of the Ommeyah of Andalusia!” he shout- 
ed, and, raising his sword, let it fall with full force upon the 
head of the Moor, who, as the blade descended, received it 
without moving from his tracks. Luckily, the thick turban 
afforded a partial defense, but still the keen steel cleft the 
scalp, and, glancing, inflicted a deep wound in the shoulder. 
The sword itself, by the force of the blow, was wrenched 
from the Sultan’s hand, and flew out some distance on the 
pavement. 

Quietly Abdallah turned, took a few steps, picked up the 
sword and deliberately wiped the bloody blade upon his 
haick. He then advanced to the Emperor, who sat motionlesi 
upon his horse, and presenting the hilt, bowed his head. 

“God is God,” exclaimed Abdallah, “and I submit to 
my fate at his hands, and at the hands of the Shereef,”"^ 

Muley Ismael, although one of the most suspicious, irri- 
table and cruel tyrants that ever filled a throne, had his 
moments of generosity. From the extreme of passion it was 
no uncommon thing for him to pass to the extreme of kind- 
ness and condescension. 

Receiving the scimitar, he Teturned it to its sheath, and 
then, unbuckling the belt, handed it back to Abdallah. 

“Receive this,’’ said the Sultan, “ oh worthy descendant 

♦This is no invention. The incident actually occurred, and tlie whole scene, as de- 
scribed, is much within the bounds of historic truth. 


44 


THE BERBER, ‘ 


of the royal Ommeyah; may G^d restore their dynasty to 
the throne of Cordova; — receive it as a token of our satisfac- 
tion that there is at least one brave and honest man in our 
court.” 

Abdallah bowed himself to the stirrup of the Sultan, and 
kissed his foot. Muley Ismael placed his hand upon the 
Moor’s head, and raising it, exclaimed in a loud voice, 
“ Long life to Abdallah ibn Asken, Chief Kaid of the gates!” 

The tongues of the courtiers were loosened. The smiles of 
the Sultan having returned, they felt secure of their heads 
for another day. Shouts of delight at the goodness and 
greatness of God, and at the wisdom, and mercy, and justice 
of the Shereef, rose upon the air, and circled the arched cor- 
ridors of the harem, and penetrated even to a distant square, 
where were lying the lifeless bodies of four women, who, 
without the slightest ground for suspicion, had been ordered 
to execution upon the first discovery of the Berber’s note. 

The Emperor made a gesture for silence — dismounting, he 
took a seat upon a projecting angle of the archway, while his 
principal officers squatted upon the ground around him. The 
mind of the Sultan was too busy with the affair of the Berber 
chieftain to permit his attention to the usual business of the 
day; and he eagerly demanded of his ministers their advice 
as to the best means of reaching a rebellious subject who was 
not content with defying the imperial power from his strong- 
hold in the hills, but who, as was evident from the note and 
the dagger, maintained relations with members of the court, 
and perhaps even mingled wdth the inmates of the palace. 

“Who has seen this chieftain of the Beni Mozarg?” de- 
manded Muley Ismael. 

Several officers asserted their knowledge of the Berber’s 
person. 

“ He is a tall man, of about forty years of age,” said the 
Bashaw of Fez. 

‘•No; he is a little, old man of seventy,” interrupted the 
Bashaw of Morocco, who was a Shelloch, or in otherwords, a 
Berber of the tribes inhabiting the Southern Atlas. 

‘‘He is neither,” interposed Kaid Hammed Burosch, who 
was a Reefien, and descended from the Berbers of the North- 
ern coast. “ He is a very young man, almost black, his 
moiher being from Soudan.” 

“No 1” exciairned a burly n-rgro, the kaid of the gardens, 


A TALE OF K!OROCCO, 


45 


'‘he is white as the whitest town Moor — white as a Christian. 
I saw him once as I was coming into the gate of the city; he 
was riding out with a number of Berbers of the Ait Amore 
and some Arabs of the plains. No; he is white, with fair 
hair; the Beni Mozarg are the whitest of the tribes; you can 
t-Al them in a moment from all other Berbers who throng the 
socco on market days.” 

“’Tis strange,*’ exclaimed the Sultan; “ this fellow and his 
tribe live less than half a day's ride from our gates, and his 
name for the la^t three years has been extending through the 
wdiole length of the land, and yet it seems impossible to 
ascertain whether he is young or old, tall or short, black or 
white! 

“ But,” he continued, “I will visit his stronghold myself. 
Let everything be prepared for an excursion in the mount- 
ains. See that ten thousand of my black troops are in 
readiness, and collect five thousand horsemen from Teruan, 
and as many more from Ted la. They are all Berbers, and 
it will be good policy to use them up against their kindred of 
the Ait Amore.” 

“But,” interposed the Bashaw, Hammed ibn Bomba, who 
held a post equivalent to minister of war, and to whom the 
king’s order was addressed, it is useless to march into the 
hills without- artillery, and the kaid of artillery, Renegado 
Hassan Jones lies’’ — at the point of death, the Bashaw would 
have said, but death being a word that must never be men- 
tioned in the presence of the Sultan, he paraphrased it by — 
“ lies awaiting the fulfilment of his destiny.’’ 

“And is there no Christian slave or renegado who can sup- 
ply his place ?” 

“ Not one,” replied the Bashaw. “ Please God that some 
of the corsairs may bring in a competent Christian soon.” 

“ Publish an order,” exclaimed the Sultan, that all the 
slaves brought into Salee, without exception, be sent up to 
Mequinez, and order ail the cruisers nowin port to get to sea 
immediately. Let them capture a Christian who under- 
stands the management of big guns at once. See that I am 
obeyed. On your head be it.” 

R sing, the Sultan broke up the council, and, with a wave 
of his hand, dismissed without aword the crowd of dignitaries 
from different districts of the empire, some of whom had been 
waiting for weeks for an opportunity to inquire the reasons 


46 THE BERBER, 

for which they had been commanded to present themselves 
at court. 

The Sultan mounted his horse, and, accompanied by his 
negroes and a few of his most intimate courtiers, he set out 
to view the progress of the building that was constantly going 
on under his direction. 

In different parts of the palace ten thousand Christian 
captives of all nations, but mainly Spaniards, Iialians and 
French, were busily engaged in preparing mortar, sawing 
timber, clearing away rubbish, and carrying loads of building 
material on their backs, while as many Moors were superin- 
tending and directing their labor, or executing the finer 
architectural detail of the work. Many were engaged in 
tearing down buildings that had been but recently erected ; 
the organ of constructiveness, which must have been large in 
the head of this singular old tyrant, being about equally 
balanced by a passion for destroying. It was a common 
saying among Moors of the day, that were all the houses 
standing that he had built and torn down, there would have 
been enough to make a street from Mequinez to Fez.” 

We must do him the justice, however, to relate that he 
himself assigned what he doubtless considered a very good 
and sufficient reason for his propensity to destroy and re- 
build. His architectural expenditures cost him nothing — 
they all came in the shape of forced contributions in kind 
from his subjects. One bashaw pillaged his district of lime 
and timber, another of grain and cattle for the support of 
the workmen, and so on, not a province escaping the most 
harassing exactions. 

And I do this,” said the politic tyrant to an English am- 
bassador, ‘^because my people are like a bag full of rats; 
unless I keep shaking the bag they will gnaw their way out.” 


CHAPTER VTI. 

Abdallah ibn Asken was a native of Fez. Descended 
from a noble family who had fled from Spain some time after 
the victorious banners of Ferdinand had been planted upon 
the walls of Grenada, the mind of Abdallah had been early 
imbued with the prejudices and feelings that even still are to 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


be found, though in a less decree, among those Moors who ( a:i 
trace their descent back to the polished courtiers of the 
Ommeyah and Abencerrages. 

Upon finishing his studies under the direction of a cele- 
brated talbe, or doctor of theology, Hadji Ben Nasser, he 
devoted three or four years to reading in the great library at 
Fez, Here he found a number of works by Arabic writers, 
on theology, rhetoric, philosophy, astronomy and geography, 
besides many translations from ancient Greek and Latin 
authors — some of whose productions, in their original lan- 
guages, aie forever lost to the civilized world, but may yet be 
recovered in their Arabic versions from the manuscript 
treasures of the Moorish n'losques. 

It was, however, the history of the Mohammedan dominion 
in Spain that chiefly excited Abdallah’s interest. More than 
all, he loved to pore over the stories and ballads of the days 
of the Ommtyah, from which royal family he claimed a direct 
descent. As may be supposed, with a mind thus raised 
above the degraded African civilization by which he was sur- 
rounded, and to some extent emancipated from the religious 
prejudices that the bigoted Ben Nasser and h’s Christian- 
hating compeers would have gladly infused, he willingly 
obeyed an order to attach himself to an embassy which in 
tiie first years of Muley Ismael’s reign, was sent to the court 
of Spain. A few years afterward a second opportunity was 
afforded him to travel into Chnsiian lands upon the occasion 
of the embassy of Bashaw Perez to the court of England. 

Upon returning to Morocco, Abdallah, instead of taking 
to the law, for which he had been educated, or to the pre- 
carious and dangerous business of a courtier, turned his at- 
leniion to mercantile affairs, in the course of which he was 
compelled to make several visits to Timbuctoo and Jennie on 
the one hand, and the ports of Leghorn and Marseilles on the 
other. 

The result of his travels was a freedom from prejudice, 
great knowledge of the world, and the acquisition of numeo 
ous European tastes, habits and notions. Externally, to his 
own countrymen, he was a grave, devout Mussulman; but at 
heart he was an unbeliever in the Prophet, and a scoffer at the 
barbarous customs and ignorant prejudices of his countrymen. 
Another result of his travels was the acquisition of a fortune, 
and with it the jealous watchfulness of the Sultan, who sel- 


48 


THE BERBER, 


d'^m suffered any of his subjects, against whom there was a 
suspicion of wealth, to escape the ordeal of the wooden 
djellabeah, a mode of squeezing money from reluctant 
capitalists then, as it ha^ been ever since, very much in vogue 
with the Maroquien Court. The wooden djellabeah consists 
simply of two wide planks connected by large screws. Be- 
tvveen these planks the suspected wretch is placed, and the 
screws are turned until the confession of his secret hoards is 
forced from his lips. ^ 

Although concealing all evidences of his gains, Abdallah 
had incurred suspicion, and his mercantile affairs were sud- 
denly brought to a close by an order to repair to Mequinez. 
Here he was assigned a house just outside the palace, at an 
exorbitant rent, by the Sultan himself, but no further efforts 
at extortion were made by the capricious tyrant, and he was 
allowed to settle down in undisturbed repose in his new home. 
Policy, however, dictated that he should frequently show him- 
self at Muley Ismael’s morning receptions, and it was at one 
of these, as we Itave ju^t teen, that lie attracted the Sultan’s 
attention, and found himself suddenly promoted to the re- 
sponsible office of kaid of the gates. 

'1 he blood flowing from the deep cuts made by the im- 
perial hand crimsoned the white garments of the new kaid. 
He grew faint, and, as the Sultan rode off, he was compelled 
to accept the support of his inferior officers and assistants, 
who flocked around him with their congratulations upon the 
imperial favor. 

A dozen turbans were at his service for bandages, and a 
dozen hands ready to apply them. Aided by the kaid of 
fountains and the kaid of the stables, and followed by a 
crowd of courtiers and officers, the new kaid of the gates 
passed through the gardens and couris until he reached the 
great city gate of the p ilace, clo^e by which stood his own 
house. Here he dismissed his attendants, who w’ould gladly 
have availed themselvts of the opportunity t ) enter and ex- 
amine the interior of a dwelling which rum or had already 
begun to indicate as the residence of an earthly hoiiri — hand- 

* The most horrible tortures are resorted to for forcing confession of hidden wealth. 
The victim is put into a slow oven, or kept standing for weeks in a wooden dress. 
Splinters are forced between the flesli and the nails of the fingers. ^ Two fierce cats are 
put alive into his wide trousers; and the breasts of his women are pinched with pincers. 
Young children have sometimes been squee2ed to death in the arms of a powerful man 
before the eyes of their parents.— //uj-'r Western Bar bury. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 49 

somer by far than the moFt heavenly-minded follower of the 
Prophet had ever dreamed of. 

Abdallah drew a wooden pass-key from his girdle and 
opened the door. He had just strength to close it behind 
him and totter across the skeffa^ or narrow hall, into the open 
paiio, or court. This court was about twenty feet long, with 
two narrow rooms on either hand, and at the side opposite the 
entrance, an arched passage way from side to side, dividing 
the first patio from a larger one beyond. 

In the centre of the court sat an old negress busily engaged 
in heaping up a pde of cooscoosoo, the national dish of 
Barbary, and one tor which no Moor — and for the matter of 
that, no Christian who has once tried it — ever loses a relish. 
Wetting her hand in a pitcher of water placed by her side, 
she seized a handful of wheaten flour, and carefully rolling it 
up into liitle round grains, by rubbing it in an earthen bowl, 
she tossed it into a sieve made of sheep-skin pierced with 
holes. The coarser grains were by this means separated and 
thrown back into the bowl. A smaller sieve separated the finer 
grains, leaving the medium sizes smooth, round and uniform 
as shot, to be added to the rapidly growing pile. As she 
worked, she amused herself by singing several doleful songs 
in her native language, occasionally stopping and looking up 
at a young man who sat in the arched doorway — the only aper- 
ture for air or light — of one of the side rooms, and who 
seemed to have no other amusement than to watch her 
operations. 

He was young, about twenty-four or twenty-five years, 
habited in a common woollen djellebeah, with a turban which, 
encircling his head without any cap, seemed more like a 
bandage for a wounded sca’p than like the graceful head- 
gear of the Moor. His complexion was light, although not 
lighter than that frequently seen in the Moorish countenance 
when not tinged by an infusion of negro blood, or by con- 
stant exposure to the sun and air. It is, however, unneces- 
sary for us to go into a minute description of his person or 
dress. 

‘‘Yah! yah! I wonder what made him dumb,” muttered 
the fat Fatima Laboo, in Arabic; “he looks as if he could 
talk — perhaps he talk too much, and Sultan cut his tongue 
out. Yah ! he’s good looking — wonder how Xari^alike him 
when he came in last night ? — she stood long time at the 


50 


THE BERBER, 


lattice looking down here. Yah! yah! I hear a noise up 
there — guess she’s there now.” 

At this moment Abdallah tottered into the court — pale, 
trembling with his garments crimsoned with blood. The 
young man started forward to support him, while Fatima 
jumping to her feet, as nimbly as her obesity would permit, 
rushed wildly round the court, shouting to Allah, and Obih, 
and Xaripha, for help. 

The young man, with ready and vigorous grasp, supported 
Abdallah to the carpeted door-step, and placed him upon the 
cushions from which he himself had just risen. As he looked 
up from assisting the wounded kaid, his eyes were startled 
by a vision of surpassing loveliness. A young girl, followed 
by several female slaves, rushed into the patio from beneath 
the arches of the gallery. 

“Father! father!” she cried, throwing her arms round 
Abdallah; “what is this? Blood! oh, father, they have 
murdered you !” 

“Not so,” replied Abdallah ; “not so bad as that, Xaripha. 
Be not frightened — ’tis but a scratch, a mere cut. I am a 
Lttle faint now ; but it will piss.” 

Xaripha, dropping her faih r’s hand, without a word, flew 
out of the patio. In a moment she was back again with a 
small vial, from which she proceeded to pour a few drops 
into a cup of water. The draught restored the strength of 
the kaid ; he sat up and affectionately placed his hand upon 
the arm of Xaripha. 

“ ’Tis a precious recipe, that of the old sage of Cordova,” 
he said; “and truly, child, have you compounded it. I 
knew not that your medicine was so efflcacious.” 

“ The herbs composing it are powerful,” replied Xaripha, 
“and I mixed them according to the recipenn the hand- 
writing of our great ancestor, El Hakem.” 

“ True, child, but I had nearly forgotten that we had the 
recipe. ’Twas well that I intrusted it to your care. It has 
quite restored my strength. We will now examine this 
scratch, with which it has pleased the Sultan to mark my ap- 
pointment to office.” 

Xaripha despatched the slaves in various directions for 
water, bandages, and salves, and proceeded at once wiih her 
own hands lo disclose the gaping vvou..ds, to staunch the 
welling blood, and to apply the medicated dressings with a 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


51 

degree of skill which, in that day, could hardly have been 
surpassed by the best surgeons of Europe, and which indi- 
cated that with the blood of the Ommeyah had been trans- 
mitted a portion, at least, of the medical science of those 
days, when flourished an Averrhoes and an Abenzoar. 

So absorbed in her pious duties was the fair Moorish girl, 
that she heeded not the presence of the young man, who 
quietly aided her. He, on the other hand, uttered no word ; 
but gazing with all his eyes at the vision of beauty which had 
so suddenly burst upon him, he felt each barrier to his heart 
give way, and his whole soul fill with a rushing, eddying, 
almost oppressive sense of female loveliness. The glowing 
charms of the unveiled face, the bare arms and shoulders, the 
unslippered feet, and the suggested graces — half revealed, 
half concealed by the short pliant basquina, and the thin 
semi-transparent chemisette — overpowered, bewildered, stu- 
pified him. His steady gaze of intense, scul absorbing in- 
terest and admiration attracted the attention of Abdallah. 

“ Xaripha,” said her father, speaking in Italian, “'you are 
unveiled — you forget the presence of this young man.’’ 

How could I think of anything, father, but you, when I 
saw 3^ou from the la tice, and heard the shrieks of Fatima ? 
As for this young man, I like his appearance, and I mind not 
showing myself unveiled before him.*’ 

“You may not mind it, for I have not trained you in the 
notions of our people, but he may think it strange — besides, 
I am anxious that no one should know of your growing 
beauty.” 

“ But this poor young man is deaf and dumb, and he look 
not like one who would betray any confidence,” replitd 
Xaripha. 

“Dumb, so far as I know; but much I misdoubt me if he 
cannot hear. He certainly understands Spanish, if not 
Arabic, He has a very familiar look to me. ’Tis strange, 
but still it might well be — he surely looks like it — ” 

“Like what, dearest father?” demanded Xaripha. 

“Like a Christian.” 

Xaripha started, and threw a glance of increased interest 
at the young man. 

“ Yuu have not lold me how he comes here, and to what 
purpose,” said Xaripha. 

“ I know nothing of him,” replied Abdallah, “except that 


53 


THE BERBER, 


he arrived from Sake last night, accompanied by a black, 
and bearing a letter from my good friend, Hassan Plerach, 
whom I have not seen since he was a boy, but with whom I 
have ever maintained a correspondence, and whom may God 
preserve in the ways of health and safety. His note en- 
treated me to receive this young man into my house, and to 
conceal him from some imminent danger, which he, Hassan, 
w^ould explain to me when he should arrive in Mequinez. 
The black informed me that the y >ung man is deaf and 
dumb, and that his master, Hassan, values his life more than 
he does his own.” 

^‘This Hassan Herach then will soon be here?” said 
Xaripha. 

am afraid not,” replied her father. The Sultan is- 
sued an order to-day for every cruiser to put to sea at once, 
and Hassan will- be compelled to obey.” 

The position of Edward, during this conversation, was 
peculiarly embarassing. Perfectly familiar with the Italian, 
he could not avoid hearing and understanding every w^ord 
that passed between the speakers; and the very precaution 
they had taken to prevent his comprehend’ng them in case 
he was only shamming deafness— that of speaking in Italian, 
rather than in Arabic — was the very means of betraying their 
thoughts. Several times was he promp'ed to speak, and 
avow his Christian character, but the parting injunctions of 
his brother, and the warnings of Selim, together with his own 
^veil-founded apprehensions as to the reception such an 
avowal would meet with in the house of a Moor, restrained 
him. 

The conversation between father and daughter flowed on, 
reverting into the Arabic tongue, until a few indignant ex- 
clamations from Xaripha brought an expression of caution 
from her father. 

Hush! hush 1” he excaimed. Speak Italian — our slaves 
are faithful, but Moorish walls understand Arabic, and a 
small word will weigh against a man’s head.” 

The conversation being continued in Italian, the young 
Englishman was again made an unwilling listener. Abdallah 
described the scene at the audience, and bitterly lamented 
];‘s unexpected elevation to the office of chief kaid of the 
gates. 

‘‘And now,” ta'd he, “ my every motion wnll be watched 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


53 


more closely than before — much I fear that it will, for alon^ 
time, prevent the execution of our cherished design; and yet 
I dare not refuse it.” 

Oh, father!” affectionately exclaimed Xaripha, throwing 
her arm around his neck; '^give up your fortune and let us 
fly! ’Tis only the money that keeps us — without that, we 
can escape at once, and surely we can find some way of living 
in that noble land of the Englishman, where you sny the 
Sultan cannot wrong the meanest man in property or life.” 

As Xaripha spoke, her eye flashed, her bosom heaved, and 
her round supple form grew erect and rigid with the tension 
of swelling emotions. 

^‘Kush! hu h, Xaripha!” interposed her father, ‘‘you for- 
get we are.- not alone, and much I misdoubt the deafness of 
this young man.” 

“Pardon me,” exclaimed Edward, advancing from a cor- 
ner of the room into which he had withdrawn. “ Pardon me, 
and have confidence in me — notwithstanding I have abused 
your confidence in this — lam no Moor; I am a Christian 
and an Englishman.” 

The announcement excited an exclamation of pleased sur- 
prise from Xaripha; but it was received by her father with 
the usual imperturable gravity and composure of Moorish 
manners. 

“Strange,” replied Abdallah, “that I, who have consorted 
so much with Christians of all nations, should have been 
deceived for an instant. But now you have told us what you 
are, tell us whence and wherefore you come.” 

Encouraged by the liberal sentiments that had fallen from 
father and daughter, and by the deep insight into their cha- 
racters, positions and designs, which their private conver- 
sation had enabled him to make, Edward sketched rapidly, 
but fully the principal circumstances that had conspired to 
bring him into his present position, concealing only the re- 
lationship between himself and the famous Hassan Herach. 

The deepest interest was manifested by both father and 
daughter during the young Englishman’s recital of his adven- 
tures. The conviction of the entire truth of the story rested 
upon the minds of both, and Abdallah mingled, with his 
expressions of sympathy, assurances of his assistance and 
protection. 

“ I would serve you for your own sake,” he said, “still 


54 


THE BERBER, 


more would I serve you for the sake of your country and 
countrymen — still more would I do so fc rthe sake of Hassaii 
Kerach, to whom I am under obligations, and to whom I 
mainly look for aid in carrying out a cherished design. May 
Allah enable him to aid me.” 

‘‘ But tell me,” he continued, rising from the cushions u|>on 
which he had been reclining, to retire to his sleeping couch 
within the inner court, “ tell me w^hy it is thatHassan Herach 
takes such an interest in your fate?” 

“Ah, that I wall leave Hassan himself to explain when he 
comes,” rep 'it d Edward. 

“Tell me,” exclaimed Xaripha, in a low voice, and turnmg 
back to the threshold of the door, “tell me, was that Spanish 
maiden by the banks of the Gaada’ete very beautiful?” 

“I thought her then the most beautifux being in the world, 
now I know that I was in error.” 

The young Englishman gazed earnestly into the depths of 
the dark eyes that were laised to his. A slight blush mantled 
the maiden’s che k as she turned to rejoin her father, and 
passed with him through the arched-way beneath the gallery 
into the inner court. 

Edward again seated himself in the door, but he no longer 
took any intereT in the manufacture of cooscoosoo. Within 
an hour his whole being had been changed. He was no longer 
the same man. His brain seemed on fire — his cheeks glowed 
as with a hectic, and his frame fairly shivered with nervous 
excitement. 

“This is too much,” he exclaimed, rising and pacing the 
court. “ What can it mean? Am I losing my senses?” 

“ Yah, yah !” muttered Fatima Laboo, looking up from 
her employment that she had resumed. “ He’s got a tongue. 
I thought Leila Xaripha makes him talk some; and now she 
is going to sing — I guess he hear well enough — yah, yah ! — 
he has plenty of ears, I think.” 

The tinkling sounds of a guitar came from the lattice 
above, and then Xaripha’s voice poured forth in tones that 
thrilled through every fibre of Edward’s heart, the words of 
an old Moorish baliad. The air was, like most Moorish tunes, 
monotonous, but the singer’s distinct enunciation gave a 
sufficiently spirited effect to the sonorous Arabic words. 

Batet seidet Abu Yakoob fil leil zudjetun, 

Kamet ala-l-fedger ve hia wahaditun. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO 


55 


Thus sang Xaripha. The reader, however, most probably, 
is as ignorant of Arabic as was Edward, and, moreover, has 
not the advantage of hearing the air, and of drinking in the 
full rich tones of the singer’s voice. It willbe, perhaps, better 
therefore to give a translation of the song rather than the 
original Arabic version — 

THE emir's bride. 

The Queen of Abu Yakoob lay by his side at night, 

But lonely was the Sultan’s bride at early morning’s light. 

When springing from the royal couch, she seized Almanzor’s child, 

And rushed throughout the harem with voice and gestures wild. 

Her cries o’erpassed the harem, and through the streets rang out. 

The veteran’s of Alarcos took up the doleful shout — 

Oil ! v/here’s the great Almanzor, who led across the main 
Four hundred thousand reapers to reap the fields of Spain ? 

Almanzor the victorious! who smote Alphonzo’s ranks. 

From the held of red Alarcos to swift I'ajo’s bloody banks. 

Oh, where’s our lord, the Sultan, who rules from sea to sea, 

From Soudan to Asturias, from A1 Garb to Tripoli ? 

But not a slave could answ'er that lady’s doleful cry. 

And not a kaid or bashaw could to the troops reply. 

Fcr not a slave had seen him in all the harem’s halls. 

And not a kaid or bashaw within the city’s walls. 

But from the gates of Maraksh the doubtful questions spread, 

Was Abu Yakoob murdered } was Abu Yakoob dead ? 

Or had he, tired of throne and state, and touched by grace divine, 

Set out to pray, in pilgrim’s guise, at Mecca’s holy shrine ? 

Thus for a year they waited, then raised Almanzor’s son 

To the throne of that vast empire, that Almanzor’s sword had won 

And the fam.e of the young Emir rose on their lickle breath — 

None thought of Abu Yakoob; none doubted of his death. 

But, woe’s me I that lone lady, in her lord-deserted bed. 

She still believed him living— she could not think him dead — 

And she vowed a vow that never would she know nor peace nor rest 
Till she’d pillowed her sad sorrow upon Almanzor’s breast. 

Thus vowed that noble lady, and on her weary way. 

Bearing Almanzor’s daugher, she wandered many a day 
Throughout that noble empire, stretching from sea to sea, 

From Soudan to Asturias, from A1 Garb to Tripoli. 

But God, to whom be glory, looked on her heavy grief. 

And sent his trustiest angels to minister relief. 

And turned her wandering footsteps to Egypt’s distant lands, 

Where by Nile’s flowing waters the famed Cairo stands. 

And there in famed Cairo, that fond and faithful bride 
Clasped in her arms Almanzor, at night lay by his side, 

And found an end of sorrow, from all her woes a rest, 

A pillow to her aching head upon Almanzor’s breast— -• 

Almanzor, the great Emir, who tired of throne and state, 

Disguised in garb of pilgrim had left his palace gate. 

And gone on weary pilgrimage to Meccans holy shrine. 

To pray, among the humblest, for promised grace divine. 




THE BERBER, 


Oh! who but He who made us, the Holy One above. 

Shall dare to set the measure to a true heart’s faith and love! 

For its faith is as the whirlwind, and not a Summer’s breath; 

And its love is as the adamant, enduring; unto death. 

The tradition, still extant in Morocco, goes on to say that 
the happy conp'e resided for several years in great privacy in 
Cairo, Almanzor earning a living as a baker. Upon liis death 
the S’dltana, with her daughter, set out for Morocco. On 
their way they encountered one of the princes of d'unis, who 
at once conceived a violent passion for t' e daughter, and 
was so unscrupulous in his demonstrations of admn*ation that 
her mother was compelled to disclose her illustrious origin; 
whereupon the prince offered her marriage, and made her 
the Sultana Sidana of his harem. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Again must the reader revisit the Bay of Cadiz — that bright, 
beautiful bay — as it lay gleaming beneath the slanting rays 
of the sun, just rising above the distant purple crests of 
Ronda. 

A large three-masted vessel, lateen rigged on the fore and 
mizzen masts, but with square polacre yards upon the main, 
was getting under way; and, with a favoring breeze from the 
East, was slowly working out, with the aid of sweeps, from the 
crowd of vessels filling the inner anchorage. A small b’attery 
of light guns upon the forecastle showed that she was not 
wholly unprepared for one of the then most formidable 
dangers of the sea. A high-turreted pyramidal-sh?.ped 
poop-cabin showed that due attention had been paid to the 
comfortable berthing of such officials or passengers as should 
be entitled to the honors and comforts of the quarter-deck. 

To this class evidently belonged two ladies, who, attended 
by an elderly gentleman, were leaning over the railing of the 
high, peaked-up cabin; and watching with an air of marked 
interest the slowly receding landmarks, the lowers and forts, 
the towns and quintas, and bridges and mountains, that 
dotted the entire sweep of the bay. 

The gentleman was a stern, hard-featured man, of middle 
size, and about fifty years of age. He was habited in a blue 
cloth cloak, beneath which, when thrown open, could be seen 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


57 


a leather j acket, crossed with bands of fine steel mail, which, 
although not covering continuously the upper part of his per- 
son, would have afforded a very good protection against a 
sword cut or a dagger’s thrust. Around his waist he wore a 
wide leather belt, with slits in it for pistols, and depending 
from it a long very old-fashioned spado^ the scabbard open- 
ing by means of a spring, to save time and trouble in draw- 
ing the blade, which had, most probably, seen service as far 
back as the days of Charles V. 

The ladies — but to introduce these properly, it is necessary 
to go back some three or four weeks, to the time when Ed- 
w^ard Carlyle went last a love-making to the gardens of the 
Gaadalete, when a very few w'ords will suffice to make the 
reader acquainted with the graceful beings, who, with inter- 
twined arms, and with their big black eyes floating in the 
moisture of sad and tender emotion, were taking a lingering 
look at the receding glories of city and bay. 

An intense excitement followed the disappearance of Ed- 
ward and his rival, Don Diego de Orsolo. Every effort 
was made to find some clue to their fale. The police of 
Cadiz were cited to the utmost by large offers of reward 
from Edward’s father. Don Diego’s numerous relatives and 
friends took up the subject with energy, while the officers of 
the Inquisition made their perquisitions in the matter with 
their usual perseverance and astuteness; but nothing could 
be ascertained beyond the fact that pursuers and pursued 
had both stood out to sea — even conjecture was at fault as to 
their ultimate fate. 

The shock proved too much for the enfeebled health of 
the English merchant. In a few days the body of the heretic 
was carried across to Rota, and buried i.i uiiconsecrated 
ground. No sooner had he breathed his last than the cor- 
morants of the law and the church, wlio had been eagerly 
watching for his demise, rushed to divide the spoil; but great 
was their disappointment upon finding that the fortune they 
had considered almost within their grasp had vanished, 
leaving nothing but a country seat covered with mortgages, 
a dozen or two pipts of poor sherry, and a few personal ef- 
fects hardly valuable enough to excite, still less gratify, the 
cupidity of the lowest clerks in the departments of the Ad- 
ministrador, Registrator, &c. The experienced merchant 
had proved himself too cunning for them — having contrived 


58 


THE BERBER^ 


to quietly and secretly transfer all of his property to his own 
country, where, by his last wili, it was to be held in trust for 
a period of years, to await the turning up of one or both of 
his lost sons. 

The disappearance of Don Diego, of course, put an end, 
for a time at least, to the marriage schemes entertained for 
the fair Isabel by her father. There was no wealthy suitor 
at hand ready to supply Don Diego’s place; and, in fact, it 
may be questioned whether, stern and hard as he was, Don 
Pedro de Estivan would, in any other case than that of his 
kinsman, Orsolo, have undertaken to force his daughter in*o 
marrying contrary to her inclinations. Luckily there occurred 
no new opportunity; and luckily, too, there happened an im- 
provement in Don Pedro’s fortunes, that took away one of 
the temptations to exercise too sternly what every good Span- 
iard of that day thought his undoubted right — the right of 
marrying his daughter to whomsoever he pleased. 

For years Don Pedro had been vainly soliciting some of 
the lucrative colonial appointments in the gift of the Spanish 
crown. Now, as if to console him for the lost of a wealthy 
son-in-law, the nomination to the governorship of Fuertaven- 
tura, one of the Canaries, was proffered him. The appoint- 
ment Don Pedro considered far below his deserts; but he 
was as poor he was proud, and there was connected with 
the office a monopoly of sugar, then one of the chief products 
of the Canaries, which induced him to waive his claims to 
the Governor-generalship of all the Islands, and accept that 
of Fuertaventura alone. 

Not long did the worthy Don hesitate, when the appoint- 
ment, through the influence of his friend, the Marqu's de San 
Roque, was offered to him. The struggle to keep up appear- 
ances was wearing away his health and temper. He was glad 
of an excuse for breiking up his already reduced establish- 
ment, and he at once took passage for h m elf and daughters 
in a government polacre that was getting ready for Teneriffe 
— the same polacre that we have seen drawdng out from the 
inner harbor, and turning seaward as she opened the mouth 
of the bay — the same polacre that may now be seen rounding 
Point Sebastian — and having obtained a fair offing from the 
shore, hauling her wind and standing down along the Afri- 
can shore. 

It was a questionable experiment, that of hugging the 


A TALK OF MOROCCO. 


59 


Spanish and Moorish coasts, thus making a direct course for 
Lancerote, and so it seemed to an old quartermaster, who 
very freely expressed his objurgations of the captain’s stu- 
pidity in the hearing of the sisters, who, despite the increas- 
ing heat of the sun, still kept their position, in the shadow 
of the sail, on the cabin deck. 

The movements and mutterings of the old sailor at length 
attracted their attention. Juanita, impulsive and fearless, 
dropped her sister’s arm, and gliding to his side, tapped his 
shoulder slightly with her fan. The old man looked up from 
his work, and a smile of admiration chased the temporary 
expression of moroseness from his still frank and open coun- 
tenance. He sprang to his feet, and cap in hand, awaited 
Juanita’s commands. 

‘‘Tell me,” she said, “ what is it that disturbs you? Did 
I understand you aright, that there is danger in keeping this 
shore in sight ?” 

The old man looked for some time at the young girl, and 
then deliberately turned his gaze upon liabel. From the sis- 
ters his eye wandered to the distant shore. His face grew 
serious, but he said nothing ; his only reply to the question 
was a grave shake of the head. 

Isabel began to feel alarmed. Juanita’s interest was aroused, 
and she placed her hand upon the arm of the sailor, and 
again repeated the question. 

“What is it we have to dread?” she demanded, impera- 
tively. “Are we not taking the most direct course for 
Fuertaventura ? Why an unsafe one ?” 

“Because of the pirates, Srhorita; we shall be more apt 
to be picked up by some fellow lying in the mouth of the 
straits, or under some headland of the Moorish coast,” 

Isabel grasped her sister’s arm and drew her back, as if 
deprecating any further inquiry into such a subject. Juniata, 
however, was of a different spirit; she did not feel that dan- 
ger could be eluded by merely shutting the eyes, and although 
her heart quickened its beats, and h.T breath came short, she 
continued her questioning. 

“ Why, then, do you take this course ?” she demanded. 
“ Why not go farther from the land ?” 

“ Because the captain, in despite all that I can say, persists 
in asseniitg that the rovers cruise farcher out to sea; that they 
undertt.Tid the trick of our vessels in making a westing of 


6o 


THE BERBER, 


three or four hundred miles, and running round Madeira to 
the Canaries, and that they are on the watch for them accord- 
ingly: true, they used to do so, bui they have changed their 
plans lately. They have found out that something besides 
fishing-boats is to be picked up along shore. I shall be much 
surprised if we don’t catch sight of a bloody flag before we 
see Lancerote.” 

But surely we need not fear if we do meet with one — are 
we not armed? these guns — are they useless ?” demanded the 
younger sister. 

‘‘ Hush, Juanita!” replied Isabel, pressing her sister’s arm 
with a trembling grasp; how lightly you talk — you speak 
of a battle with Moorish pirates in a tone that frightens 
me.” 

‘‘Well, Isabel, I shall not invoke a battle, for your sake; 
but I must confess that there is something in the idea that 
makes my blood tingle not unpleasantly. You remember the 
song, Isabel,” and the young girl sang, in a low voice, a verse 
of the ballad of Dragut the Corsair: 

“ ‘ There came a wreath of smoke from out a culverine. 

The corsair’s stern it broke, and he sank into the brine- 

Down Moor and fettered Christian went beneath the billows’ roar, 

But hell had work for Dragut, and he swam safe ashore.” 

But I suppose if the fight actually took place, I should be as 
frightened as you.” 

“ The Virgin preserve you, Senorita,” said the old sailor, 
“ from learning by experience how you would feel in an en- 
counter with pirates. As for fighting, I fear there would 
not be much of it in our case. Our batteries are small; the 
ship is in bad order, and but half manned. No — if we meet 
with pirates our only c hance will be to run.” 

“ Run!” exclaimed Juanita, “ I am afraid in that case we 
shall not rival the fame of the Knights of Malta. They will 
never sing of us: 

‘ Oh, swiftly, very swiftly, they up th3 5trait3 hav ’2 goao ! 

Oh, swiftly flies the corsfiir, and swift the cross comes on I 
The cross upon yon banner that streams unto the breeze. 

It is the sign of victory — the cross of the Maltese,’ ” 

It was now near the middle of the forenoon, and the direct 
rays of the sun, aided by the reflected glare from the ocean, 
making it unpleasant to remain longeron deck, the two ladies 
retired to the cabin, where they amused themselves with the 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


6l 


usual employments of the Spanish fair — embroidering, and 
singing to the guitar. Dinner filled up a part of the time; 
the customary siesta finished another portion of the day ; and 
aiju.ting their mantillas, and spreading their fans t) shade 
their eyes from the declining sun, the sisters again made their 
ap[)earance upon the deck. 

It was a glorious afternoon — golden and glowing, but soft 
and subdued. Abeam of the polacre stre ched the long p as- 
sage between Calpe and Abyla — the famous p liars of ller- 
cules — into the Mediterranean. On the quarter were the 
yellowish headlands of Trafalgar, and on the bow the diiker 
cliffs of Cape Spartel, and the browner summits of Babanna, 
(now, sometimes, called Mount Washington,) and other 
Moorish liiils. The polacre was directly off the entrance to 
the Straits. 

Isabel seated herself, and leaning upon the carved railing, 
gazed pensively upon the broad tract of water that had been 
passed since morning. 

‘•Come, Isabel,’’ exclaimed the younger sister; “let us 
walk, the vessel is very steady now ; come, ’tis no time for 
musing, especially with such a doleful countenance ; and as 
for sighing, there is no occasion for it. I tell you your lover 
will come to life again; and if he should not, you can afford 
to lose him even if you loved him ever so desperately.” 

“ How so?” demanded Isabel. 

“Why you can balance 3^our loss of Don Edward by your 
escape from Dun Diego, and thank the Virgin then for her 
mercies. But the case is not so bad as that — Don Edward is 
alive, and besides, you do not love him.” 

“ How do you know that?” inquired Isabel. 

“ You have told me so fifty times.” 

“ But I may not have known myself,” returned the elder, 
blushing, and drawing the slender figure of Juanita down to 
her side. 

‘•Aye, but I know it from a surer source ; nay, don’t be 
frightened ; I know it only from my own observation and 
penetration. You d > not love him, and what is more, you 
could nojt love him ; he is not suited to you.” 

“ And why not, pray? In what have you discovered that 
he is deficient?” exclaimed Isabel. “Is he not the hand* 
somest man in Cadiz?’’ 

Juanita made a gesture of assent. 


62 


THE BERBER, 


And brave, and generous, and accomplished?” 

‘‘True, true, all,” replied the young girl; “but still you 
love him not.” 

“And if I do not,” said Isabel, “ I am sure I cannot tell 
the reason why.” 

“ But I can,” replied Juanita; “ he is unsuited to you by 
reason of resemblance. You, Isabel, are not of that class of 
women who can love men precisely their equals. You de- 
mand more of will — more strength of character — than you 
have yourstlf. The man you love must be a little your 
superior — Edward is not.” 

“And you, Juanita,’* interrupted Isabel, laughing, and 
looking up, but with an expressson of surprise, “ which < f 
these classes do you suppose that you belong to, or rather to 
what class do you expect to belong when you grow up ?” 

“ Grow up,” exclaimed Juanita, starting to her feet; “look 
at me, Isabel. I am half a head taller than you are now. Is 
not that enough? But you wish to know to which class I 
belong — to neither. I could not love a man a little, just a 
little my superior. 1 should detest my equal ; I should despise 
my inferior ; although I can conceive an assemblage of qual- 
ities in a man of no great strength of mind that could win 
my regard; and perhaps if I were called upon to cherish and 
protect him, I might cultivate a certain degree of affection 
for him — a kind of motherly sentiment. Don’t laugh, Isabel; 
it is true. I have thought it all over a hundred times. But 
the man for me to love — oh ! as I could love such a man — is 
one who is vastly my superior, not so much in accomplish- 
ment, nor even in intellect, but in irresistible force of char- 
acter ; a man who will compel my spirit to bend its knee tc^ 
his; who will command my soul to stand still, and shine on ^ 
him, as Joshua commanded the sun ; who can trample my 7 
will to the dust beneath the tread of his irresistible and in- 
domitable energy, and fixity, and courage. You, Isabel, re- 
quire that the man you love should make you look up to, and 
admire him, and that he should guide and protect you. I 
require that he should make me worship him and fear him; 
and that, instead of guiding and protecting me, he should 
master me. I want that he should conquer the domain of my 
soul, add it to his own, and then generously divide the 
sovereignty between us.” 

“ J’.anita dear,” exclaimed Is?Bel, seizing her sister’s arm, 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


63 


^ ‘Are you crazy? Where did you get such notions? Who 
told you all this nonsense?” And nonsense it seemed to the 
elder sister, who although she had not been subjected to the 
rigid restrictions of Spanish female education, had never ac- 
customed her thoughts to any very bold sallies beyond the 
pale of conventional propriety and prejudice. 

“ Who should tell me,” replied Juanita, “ except my own 
heart ? Everything is not to be learned from the sermons of 
Father Padilla.” 

“ Nor from those foolish romances, or- from those Italian 
poets. But tell me, Juanita, do you expect ever to encounter 
this conqueror — this tyrant; and how will you know him if 
you do ?” 

“Instinct, sister; I shall feel his presence as the flowers 
feel the sun. And if I ever do meet him — ” 

“If you do meet him,” interrupted Isabel, “think you 
that you will surrender without a struggle?” 

“Oh, that will depend,” replied Juanita, laughing, “ upon 
the strength, of his array and the way in which he marshals 
his forces. If he lets me see at first that he is too strong for 
me, I shall surrender at once.” 

“ And if he does not, woe betide him!” exclaimed Isabel, 
rising and passing her arm around her sister’s waist. “ Poor 
knight, I pity him. He will have to invoke Santiago. Cupid 
won’t help him. My dear little chica will attack him, and 
rout him, horse and foot. But what is that ? Look, Juanita, 
what can it be?” 

The conversation of the sisters was interrupted by a move- 
ment among the sailors on the forecastle of the polacre. 
Hurried exclamations passed fore and aft, while several offi- 
cers ascended the rigging of the mainmast to get a better 
look at an object that was attracting all eyes towards the 
^distant African coast. 

“Do you see that black speck hereaway, senorita?” said 
the old quartermaster. “ Well, that is a large galley. She 
has no sails set; but the best eyes among us say "she has h*:: 
sweeps out, and that she is pulling for this polacre.” 

“ But why does she not use her sails?” demanded Isabel, 
with breathless interest. “ The wind is fair for her, if she is 
coming this way.” 

“ That is just it,” returned the old man; “ why don’t she, 
senorita? I’m afraid it is because she wants to creep down 


64 


THE BERBER, 


upon US as closely as possible without being seen. But we 
shall know soon; that is, if the captain takes my advice, 
which is, to up with the helm and square away for the West, 
right before the wind. That will let the fellow know that 
we have discovered him; and if he wishes to overhaul us, he 
will have to set his sails and make the best use of his wind.’^ 

The manoeuvre indicated was at length executed; and for 
a few mom'^ts the hopes of the groups on the deck of the 
polacre rose, as the black speck astern remained without 
change. These hopes, however, were destined to a cruel dis- 
appointment. Suddenly the black speck disappeared, and, 
as if by magic, there gleamed the white canvas of a large 
triangular sail. A deep sensation was manifest throughout 
the polacre; it was evident that the galley was in chase. 

“ Think you it is a Moorish corsair ?” demanded Isabel; 
supporting her trembling figure by a grasp upon her younger 
but more composed sister. 

The quartermaster took a long look at the pursuing craft, 
and then deliberately turned his eyes upon his fair auditors. 
An ominous shake of the head was his only reply. 

Isabel clung close to her sister. 

‘^If yonder vessel is a Moorish corsair,” whispered Juanita, 
‘‘answer me one question — what will be our chance of 
escape ?” 

“Oh! that depends upon their rate of sailing. This craft 
is not so slow before the wind, and there is many a pirate 
that she will outsail easily; but there is one of the Salee 
rovers — perhaps you have heard of him — ” 

The sisters shuddered, and even the blood fled for a mo- 
ment from Juanita’s cheek and lips. 

“ Oh! I see that you have heard of him. Well, if that 
should prove to be the galley of Hassan Herach, there is no 
hope for us in running.” 

“Then we must fight!” exclaimed Don Pedro, who, for 
the first time, had been brought out of his cabin by the 
bustle on deck. “ Never fear; we shall be able to drive off 
a set of rascally • Moors, even if this famous Herach is at the 
head of them.” 

Don Pedro spoke lightly and encouragingly; but an ex- 
pression of concern tempered the look of affection which 
beamed from his usually stern face, as his eyes fell upon his 
daughters. The maidens, almost for the first time in their 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


^5 


lives, felt themselves drawn to him by a sentiment of close 
and intimate relationship. A glimmering of the love that 
they might have had for him flashed upon the minds of both. 
Something of the same perception dawned upon the mind of 
Don Pedro. Not that he had not at heart a strong affection 
for his children, but circumstances had prevented him from 
manifesting it, or from making any effort to call forth a cor- 
responding sentiment in return. He had been too busy with 
the constant struggle between his pride and his poverty to 
love them much or to make them love him. With expres- 
sions of tenderness that he had not vouchsafed before for 
years, he conducted them to their cabin. Returning to the 
deck, he joined the anxious council of officers. The energy 
and courage of the Don were irresistible, and it was unani- 
mously resolved to fight. 

But to fight with any chance of success, it was necessary to 
put the polacre in order for battle— no easy matter, owing to 
the ineffimency of the officers, and the confusion among the 
crew. The name of Hassan Herach had spread among them 
and nothing would they listen to but the exaggerated and 
contradictory stories of a dozen yoluble raconteurs, who made 

out the famous royer to be of all ages, colors and characteris-' 
tics. 

Don Pedro, howeyer, was in his element. He was an ex- 
perienced soldier; and, although harsh in manner and selfish 
m disposition, he possessed a commanding energy, that iust 
fitted him to take the lead in moments® of he^itatfon S 
danger. By his encouraging exhortations to the officers, and 
his stern commands to the men, the polacre was at length in 
some degree prepared for battle. Arms and ammunition 
were produced; the batteries put in working order; the men 
assigned to their quarters, and a couple of brass culyerines 

thTiabin'^deX *tern-chasers, upon 

The sisters retired to the cabin, where sat Father Padilla 
in an ecstacy of fear. In one hand he held his beads; in the 
S of sherry, which he not infrequently 

pplied to his mouth; while, in the interyals he muttered his 
industriously fingered the rosary. Isabel threw 

seat Virgin, while Juanita took her 

seat by the stern window, and gazed at the adyancing sail 
that was gleaming in the last rays of the purple twilight 


66 


THE BERBER, 


It was soon evident that the pursuing galley was the best 
sailer, and by ten o’clock she had got near enough to open 
with her bow guns on the polacre. There was no longer any 
doubt as to the character of the galley, or as to the fate that 
awaited the Spaniards in case they suffered themselves to be 
captured. The fire was returned with spirit. 

For half an hour this cannonade was kept up without much 
damage on either side, although both vessels were struck by 
several raking shots. In the meanwhile the galley continued 
rapidly to overhaul the polacre, and the danger of being 
boarded in overwhelming numbers, according to the favorite 
mode of attack practised by the Salee rovers, momentarily 
increased. 

Don Pedro encouraged the men, at the stern guns, to re- 
newed exertion; but still, although several of their shots 
passed through the galley’s foresail, and swept amid the 
crowds around her forecastle-batteries, no injury was done 
that could impede the rapid advance of the Moors. So close 
were they new, that the rattling of musketry began to mingle 
with the heavy boom of the cannon and the shouts and cheers 
of the combatants. The guns on both sides were of very 
small calibre. The corsair’s batteries consisted of two or 
three, four and six pounders, mounted on the forecastle en 
barbette, or looking over the low bulwarks, instead of through 
port-holes. As many more were mounted at the stern of the 
galley. The damage on either side, therefore, after an hour’s 
fighting, was small in comparison with the terrible effects 
produced by the full, heavy armaments of later days. 

Steadily Juanita maintained her position at the open port, 
from which she had a distinct view of the deck of the crowded 
galley, lit up by the continual flashes of the guns; and even 
when a shot came crashing in through .the timbers over her 
head she stirred not. 

Strange,” thought the young girl, glancing at the cower- 
ing forms of her sister and Father Padilla, ‘^strange that I 
feel no fear. My heart beats high, but I do not tremble; and 
yet perhaps it is not courage, ’tis confidence in my fate. I 
cannot feel that I am in danger.” 

A scream from Isabel drew the attention of the young girl. 
The cabin door was open, and entering there appeared several 
sailors bearing the body of Don Pedro. He was not dead, 
but a deep wound in the breast, from which the life blood 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


67 


Was rapidly welling, left him but a few moments to live. The 
sisters flew to their father, and assisted in supporting diim to 
a couch. As the tide of life ebbed, the long buried affec- 
tions of Don Pedro were disclosed to himself. He felt that 
the bitterest pang of death was in leaving his daughters, 
and that, too, under such circumstances — and, to such a 
fate! He gazed at them by the dim light from the single 
lamp with a look of anguish. He pressed their hands in his 
feeble grasp. His lips moved — 

Shall I call Father Padilla?” whispered Isabel. 

The dying man rolled his eyes in the direction of the 
priest and shook his head. Isabel loosened the cross from 
her bosom, and pressed it to his lips. 

At this moment, a shot from the galley shattered the rud- 
der of the polacre, and the next instant another, ranging 
ahead, carried away the slings of the lateen fore-yard, which 
allowed the polacre to broach to, and placed her directly 
athwart the advancing galley. Unluckily, the Spaniards 
carried no guns except the small battery we have mentioned 
on the forecastle, and this at the moment was unmanned, or 
an effective raking fire might have been poured into the 
Moors, to avoid which they would have been compelled to 
give up iheir design of boarding. 

A few of the Spaniards rushed forward to the forecastle 
guns; but it was too late. The bow of the low galley passed 
directly beneath the stern of the polacre, and both vessels 
were at once locked together by barbed boarding hooks and 
grappling irons. 

“Follow me,” shouted the captain of the corsair, ‘‘beat 
down the dogs, but kill none who surrender. Follow me — 
through the cabin ports!” and making a spring from the rail 
of his vessel, the young man threw himself into the cabin 
window of the polacre. Before, however, a single one of his 
crew could follow him, the momentum of the galley whirled 
the polacre around, and brought both vessels alongside of 
each other. The Moors were now compelled to board over 
the quarter railing, leaving their young captain unsupported 
in the cabin. 

For a moment, Jlassan — or if the reader prefers his Christ- 
ian name, Henry Carlyle — was somewhat taken aback, at 
sight of the scene revealed by the dim lamp hanging from 
the ceiling. On one side sat muttering and mumbling 


68 


ITHE BEfeBER^ 


Father Padilla^ on the other lay the dead body of Don 
Pedro, from which the breath of life had just departed, and 
leaning over it were the graceful forms of the sisters. Satis- 
fied that there was no opposition to be encountered, Hassan 
dropped his sword, and touching the half-paralyzed priest, 
he demanded the names and rank of the inmates of the 
cabin; but not an intelligible word could he get in reply from 
the worthy padre, who, what with fear, and the contents of 
the beta, w^as nearly speechless. 

The noise of the combat increased as the Moors poured in 
over the bulwarks of the unlucky polacre. 

Hassan advanced towards the sisters — I know not who 
you are, ladies, and I have no time to ask; but trust in me, 
your fate may not be so bad as you fear! at least, I will do all 
I can to alleviate it. Cover your faces in your mantillas; or, 
here, muffle yourselves well in these hangings — be sure and 
let none of my men see your faces, and I will protect you.’’ 

Passing through the outer cabin, wdiere were huddled to- 
gether the terrified domestics of Don Estivan, the Moorish 
captain gained the deck. The combat still raged, but the 
voice of the rover soon brought it to an end. 

‘‘ Quarter, men ! — give the Kaffirs quarter 1” he shouted in 
a voice that sent the rolling Arabic gutturals far above the din 
of the conflict. Save as many of the slaves as you can.” 

The Spaniards threw down their arms, and the Moors 
proceeded to secure their prisoners; and although the fight 
had been desperate, and their passions fully aroused, they did 
so with much less violence and cruelty than was, at that time, 
usually practised toward Christian slaves ; or, for the matter 
of that, by the Christians toward their Moorish captives when, 
in their turn, the Christians happened to be conquerors. 

A number of the stoutest captives were removed to the 
galley and chained to the oars; a prize crew was then put on 
board the polacre, and both vessels made sail for Salee. 

Among the prisoners*transferred to the galley were the 
sisters, leaving unluckily, as it afterwards proved for them, 
their two female servants aboard of the polacre. The inner 
cabin — the one in which took place the first interview be- 
tween Edward and his brother — was assigned exclusively to 
their use. No one entered except a black slave bearing their 
meals; and much to their surprise, the dreaded rais, Hassan 
Herach, evinced no disposition to intrude upon their privacy. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


69 

This treatment, so different from what they had expected, 
at length excited their curiosity as well as surprise, and as 
each day closed without bringing the presence of the rover, 
the sentiment increased in force, and served to neutralize, to 
some little extent, their grief for the death of Don Pedro, 
and their anxiety for themselves. The third day closed, and 
found them fully interested in the questions — why had they 
received no message from the captain of the corsair ? what 
kind of a man would he prove ? and who could the young 
man be who had addressed them in the cabin of the polacre ? 


CHAPTER IX. 


Light head-winds and calms retarded the progress of the 
corsair and her prize. On the tenth day, however, the scene 
changed — a single black cloud swept rapidly along the sur- 
face of the ocean, lashing it to foam, and leaving behind it 
a heavy sea, and a strong wind, which blew a gale for several 
hours. After the nucleus of the tornado had passed, and 
the sun had again risen, the polacre was nowhere to be seen. 
It was decided that she had been compelled to scud, and that 
it would be a useless delay to lie by for her; so the prow of 
the galley was again turned for Salee. On the thirteenth 
day, dating from the capture, the turrets of Sma Hassati 
came in sight. 

The first three days the sisters were left in undisturbed 
possession of their cabin, and their hearts began to be ani- 
mated with hopes of a more agreeably fate than they at first 
anticipated. They knew that there was in Morocco a Spanish 
agency for the redemption of prisoners, and they could not 
doubt that their captors would be willing to accept the ran- 
som that would be offered, as soon as their relatives, at Cadiz, 
should be apprized of their situation. 

But suppose,” demanded Juanita, that we should be 
sold as slaves, and fall into the hands of some one who would 
refuse all ransom, I have heard that it is not always easy to 


70 


THE BERBEP, 


secure the liberty of a Christian slave in Morocco, even with 
money.” 

“ Ah, in that case,” replied Isabel, ours would be a fate 
worse than death.” 

“You mean, sister dear,” returned Juanita, throwing her 
arms around Isabel’s neck, and drawing her head to her 
bosom, “ You mean that we shall be doomed to the harem.” 

“ I do,” whispered Isabel, closing her eyes, as if to shut 
out some dreadful sight, and convulsively clasping her sister’s 
waist, 

“ And you think that worse than death?” inquired Juanita. 

“ Oh, yes; worse than a thousand deaths.” 

Juanita bowed her mouth to her sister’s ear, Let us die, 
then,” she whispered in a voice, calm in accent, but full cf 
emotion. 

“ Die ?” murmured Isabel. 

“Yes, if it is necessary, die,” and the young girl took 
Isabel’s hand, and placed it beneath the folds of her dress; 
“ feel it,” she continued; “it is our father’s dagger; it shall 
serve for us both.” 

Isabel drew her hand from the dagger’s hilt, and shuddered. 
Starting back, she held her sister off at arms’ length, and 
gazed into her face with an expression of pure wonder; 
“ Child! child! — but no, you are no child! You have grown 
old latterly by years, not davs. How came you to think of 
this ?” 

“I saw it,” replied Juanita, “in Don Pedro’s last glance. 
He was harsrli, and hard, and unsympathizing; but still he 
loved us; and think you not that he would have driven his; 
dagger into our hearts sooner than have seen us the inmates, 
of a Moorish harem ? It was in his dying look that I read it, 
and when I secured his dagger he smiled and died.” 

Isabel gazed at her sister in wondering silence; she felt 
that Juanita’s character was developing itself with a rapidity 
and force, the ultimate degree of which her own more gentle 
nature could not foresee or comprehend. She was about to 
reply, but the door opened, and there entered a black slave, 
who announced, in a respectful tone, that the rais desired 
permission to present himself to his guests. 

The moment had come for an interview with the dreaded 
Hassan Herach, ^nd muffling their ' faces in their mantillas, 
the sisters awaited, in trembling anxiety, the entra^nce of the 
}:e4oubtable rover. _ 


A TALE OE MOROCCO. 


n 


Atiiid the din of the conflict, in the dim light of the po- 
lacre’s cabin, the sisters had received no very definite impres- 
sion of the form and figure of the Moorish captain, still less 
of his features. They heard a pleasant voice addressing them, 
as they hung over the dead body of Don Pedro, and involun- 
tarily they obeyed its direction to muffle their faces; but 
beyond that, they had no idea of the person by whom they 
had been addressed, and little did they think that it had been 
by Hassan Herach himself. 

The astonishment of the sisters may be imagined, when, 
after a moment's delay, the black again threw open the 
cabin door; and there appeared a young man, habited in 
Moorish garb, the very image, apparently, of Edward Carlyle. 

A moment’s pause, and Juanita was about to start forward 
towards him. A slight movement of Isabel restrained her. 
The eye of the elder, better practised in the study of Edward’s 
features, marked at on^e the slight differences that distin- 
guished the brothers. The one before her had a peculiarly 
quiet and dignified carriage, a graver and somewhat sterner 
expression of face. The features were the same in both; 
but, in the captain of the corsair, they had a more settled and 
determined aspect, more the air of habitual command; more 
of thoughtful self-control. 

Hassan marked the sensation his appearance excited. Ad- 
^vancing, with a courteous smile, he addressed them in tones 
that almost made Isabel doubt whether she had not decided 
too readily against the identity of the speaker with her ad- 
mirer of Cadiz. 

“ The seiloritas are surprised to find in the captain of this 
galley so close a resemblance to an old friend. If they will 
do me the favor to listen, I will explain how it so happens.” 

With a polite wave of the hand, the young Moorish captain 
requested the sisters to be seated, and then deliberately 
assuming a position at their feet, he began his and his brother’s 
story. No expression of emotion betrayed the deep interest 
his auditors took in the tale, until he came to speak of the 
final escape of Edward, when Juanita could no longer con- 
tain her delight, which she expressed by letting fall her 
mantilla from her face, and giving her sister a hearty embrace. 

‘‘ I told you,” she exclaimed, that he would come to life 
.again. You have no longer to reproach yourself with his 


72 


THE BERBER, 


death. But where is he now?” she demanded, turning to 
the rais. ‘ ■ Shall we see him ? Is he free ? Is he well !” 

He is, I hope, in safety,” replied Hassan. For reasons 
of prudence I sent him inland to the city of Mequinez. 
Sometimes, you know, the nearer the rocks the farther from 
danger. Suspicion slumbers soundest in the heart of the 
camp. I intended to follow him in a few days, but unluckily 
an order from my capricious master compelled me to put to 
sea.” 

And now,” continued the speaker, after a pause, having 
finished his story, will not the senorita permit me a view 
of the charms so much vaunted by my brother?” 

There was something in the tones of the young captain’s 
voice, and in his gestures and looks, that had strangely affected 
Isabel’s heart. Could it be that the resemblance to Edward 
was the cause of her emotion, and that she had been wrong in 
supposing herself so indifferent to him ? The thought oc- 
curred to her, and kept her silent while the captain of the 
corsair was speaking. 

Isabel, in obedience to the request, threw back her man- 
tilla, and as she did so, a blush mantled her cheek and re- 
stored for a moment its usual beauty to her face, blanched 
by the recent scenes of fear and sorrow. Steadfastly for a 
minute and more did the young man gaze into her dark eyes. 

“'Senorita,” he exclaimed, as her look faltered beneath his 
steady glance, “ I wonder not at the temerity of Edward. 
My brother were a coward indeed, had he not dared any 
danger for such eyes as yours.” 

'^Senorita,” he continued, rising to his feet, “you can 
confide in me — you can believe me — ” 

“ I do — I do,” impulsively exclaimed Isabel, extending her 
hand. 

The Moorish captain took her hand, spread it in his open 
palm, and deliberately looked at it for a few moments. 

“Yes — you can believe me; I shall do all for your safety 
that I can do; but the issue is with God.” 

As the captain left the cabin, he paused for a moment in 
the outer room, and an expression of deep anxiety passed 
over his features. He thought of the last order from the Sul- 
tan, that all prisoners were to be considered imperial propery, 
and sent at once to Mequinez. 

“ But if this head-wind lasts,’' he muttered to himself, as 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 73 

he went on deck, we shall have three or four days to think 
of what is best to be done.” 

Luckily, the head-wind lasted not only for three or four 
days, but for more than a week, and it was not, as we have 
said at the beginning of the chapter, until the close of the 
thirteenth day, that the tower of Sma Hassan came in sight. 

’Tis strange how much under the control of outward and 
external circumstance is the sentiment of love. The germs 
of the passion may lie in compatibility of organization, of 
feeling and of taste; but it requires the influence of peculiar 
external circumstances to quicken the seed and to ripen the 
fruit. Like the leaden balls used by the natural philosopher, 
in the familiar illustration of the principle of cohesion, two 
hearts may touch e^ch other with a certain force, and yet 
remain forever distinct — a little more external force, a little 
more compression, and almost instantaneously a. union, 
strong as the fibres of either, is complete. 

In a manner, Isabel was an illustration of this principle. 
The attentions of Edward Carlyle had gratified her vanity, 
and his person and accomplishments had pleased her fancy, 
but had not in reality interested her heart. She admired him, 
liked him, and loved him not. But, a captive in a Moorish 
corsair, and brought under such peculiar circumstances into 
so intimate a relationship with his brother, her heart was 
forced within the sphere of attraction, and leaped up at once 
like steel to the magnet. 

True, there were differences in the brothers that might in 
part explain the superior influence of Hassan, but there can 
be no question that if Edward had stood in his place, Isabel 
would have looked at him with different feelings than when 
throwing her careless glances from the balcony at Cadiz, or 
from the arbors of the Guadalete. 

But whether she would have loved Edward much or little, 
certain it is that her heart acknowledged at once the presence 
of its master in the person of his brother. A true Gaditana— 
impressive, impulsive, and overflowing with passion and 
feeling, it required but a few days of close and intimate inter- 
course to develop the whole loving capacities of her nature. 
Here, however, was not that fiery and energetic love that 
Juanita would have felt — a love lofty and dazzling as the 
flames of a volcano — a love stimulating, not controlling the 
intellect and will — but hers was a love that pervaded her 


74 


THE BERBER, 


whole soul, heart and brain — a universal sentiment into which 
were absorbed all feeling, intellect and volition. 

And did the rover return this passion? There was noth- 
ing in the grave courtesy with which he treated the sisters — 
nothing in the quiet maner in which he discoursed of the 
events of his life — his strange adventures — his religious sen- 
timents — nothing in the calm glances of his eye to indicate 
that he did, and yet Isabel had not a doubt. 

The grounds of this confidence it would have been diffi- 
cult for Isabel to declare; it was, nevertheless, well founded. 
From the first interview, the heart of the young Moorish cap- 
tain had beat with a feeling that he did not dare to avow 
even to himself. His newly found brother’s image rose up 
before him. 

‘^He said that beloved her not,” muttered the rais, pacing 
the deok, ^^but it cannot be; he must love her, and I — 1 
must steel my heart to her charms.” 

Still the growing sentiment refused to be stifled; and 
when, at the end of a fortnight, the landmarks of Salee came 
into sight, and all the difficulties of his position arising from 
the recent order of the Sultan, that all slaves should be at 
once sent to Mequinez, Tiihhed upon Hassan’s mind, he knew 
that he loved — madly, desperately loved. 

Slowly the galley drew in under the influence of her 
sweeps to the mouth of the Buregreb, forming the harbor of 
Salee. Keeping time to a slow monotonous strain chanted by 
a gang of Moors on the forecastle, the slaves manning the 
oars rose a^nd fell back with a steady and simultaneous pull 
on the heavy sweeps. At intervals a gun from the forecastle 
battery announced that once again the famous Hassan Rais 
had triumphed over the hated flag that was trailing at his 
galley’s stern. 

And now the minarets and battlements of Salee and Rabat 
are in sight. The rais looked at them intently, and an 
increasing shade of gloom came across his face. 

^Mf I could contrive to smuggle them ashore I could keep 
them concealed easily enough,” he muttered to himself. 
‘‘ But that will be impossible; we shall be boarded, perhaps 
outside the bar, by the captain of the port, then all will be 
known, and I shall have to surrender them to the kaid of the 
slaves. 

klassan started to his feet, while trembling on his lips wa^ 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


75 


an order to put about and sail away from the dreaded port. 
But whither? He could go to no Christian land; and 
although master of the galley, he knew that he was watched; 
the Marquiens having lately adopted the practice of the 
Algerines, who, always jealous of the captains of their cor- 
sairs, especially if they were able men and favorites with 
their crews, were forced to send on board an aga or kaid of 
soldiers to overlook and report of their doings. Besides this 
officer, Hassan knew that he had an enemy in the Bash 
Sota Rais, or first lieutenant, whose unnecessary cruelty to 
captives he had had more than one occasion to repress. For 
a moment the desperate rais contemplated the design of 
liberating the slaves at the oars, and the captives of the 
polacre, mastering the Moors, turning them adrift in the 
small boats, and then setting sail for some Christian land. Bat 
a new and more feasible plan crossed his mind. The gloomy 
countenance of the rais lighted up with an expression of hope. 

‘‘ I can do as much as that at any rate,” he exclaimed, in a 
low voice. ‘T will defy the kleefa of the kaid of the slaves — 
I will assert my right to obey the Sultan’s order in person, and 
to conduct all my captives to the" court myself. That will 
give us time and, at least, opportunity. Who knows what 
may happen by the way ? Oh 1 if I can communicate with 
Casbin Subah, the Berber, in time, he could aid me — he could 
save us. Oli ! holy and true prophet of God— be you He of 
Jdecca or He of Nazareth — send the chief of the Beni Mozarg 
to our help.’’ 

It will be recollected that the religious education of the 
young rais had been sadly neglected; and that to him there 
was no impropriety in his equivocally ascribed prayer. But, 
right or wrong, it had an inspiriting effect, and he superin- 
tended the delicate operation of taking the galley in through 
the breakers that beat upon the bar of the Buregreb, with his 
usual alacrity and skill. 

The arrival of the famous rover, of course, created quite a 
sentation; and the inhabitants turned out<f« masse from both 
cities to see the landing of the Christian dogs. Great was the 
disappointment and even indignation among the officials of the 
town when the rais announced his determination to allow no 
one to board the galley. The redoubtable Hassan Herach, 
always a favorite with the populace, was now the hero of the 
hour. He knew that if he chose to take such a responsibility 


THE BERBER, 


76 

his crew would stand by him ; and, although there was grecit 
danger, in view of the capricious nature of the Sultan, there 
was almost equal danger, provided he gained the favor of 
the tyrant, to any one who should oppose him. Despite, 
however, his commands to admit no one, the galley no 
sooner struck the sand, than a big, burly negro — his face 
strongly marked by the smallpox— clambered up by the chan- 
nels over the bulwarks. With a loud voice he announced 
himself as Hammed ben Slovvek, the newly appointed kaid 
of the slaves. 

Hassan advanced with a courteous salute to the new kaid, 
but his manner rapidly changed to an expression of contempt, 
as he listened to the blustering tones of the negro. 

Why is it,” demanded the kaid, that the polacre has 
not arrived with you ?” 

Ask the whirlwind,” replied Hassan; ^^it, no doubt, will 
give you a fitting answer.” 

‘Ht has the larger portion of the captives on board, you 
say ; are there any women among them ?” 

There are women among them ?” shortly replied Has- 
san. 

When will they arrive ?” | 

I know not.” 

‘‘Well, we must wait for them, I suppose; but the cap- 
tives you have here in your galley, you will surrender them 
to my keeping. Here is the order of our lord the Sultan to 
that effect — all Christians are to be sent up to Mequinez.” 

“ I shall escort the slaves that I have captured to Mequinez 
myself,” sternly replied Hassan. “I shall obey the order of 
the Sultan — to whom may God give a happy life — but I shall 
permit no interference with my rights. Go, then, in peace, 
and trouble not thy soul about the security of my captives. 
What my hands have won they can hold.” 

“ Deliver me the women, then,” exclaimed the kaid, in an 
insolent tone. “ The Sultan — may God preserve his life — 
has glvfen me all the women who may be brought into port 
during this month as the pay of my office.” 

The blood forsook Hassan’s lips; he clenched his teeth, 
but his habitual self-command for a moment restrained him, 
and he made no reply. 

“Ha! I know that you have Christian women here,” ex- 
claimed the kaid, pointing to the cabin; “you must, at least, 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


77 


deliver them to me; they are my property, and I will have 
them; keep the men, and we will settle the question about 
them at Mequinez, but surrender the women — they are 
mine.” 

Hassan could control his rage no longer. 

‘‘To the ground instantly, or T will throw you over the 
bulwarks,/ he shouted, advancing upon the kaid. 

The negro started *back, and drew his sword, with a men- 
acing air; but he had hardly time to extend it, when it was 
crossed by the blade of the excited rais. A single clash, and 
the weapon of the kaid flew far out upon the sand. TiRe rove^ f 
'dropped his sword to the deck and seized the kaid. 

“ On your head be it!” shouted the enraged negro. ’ 

“On my head be it!” replied Hassan; and, lifting the 
struggling kaid bodily, he dashed him over the bulwarks 
with a force that would have left but little life in him, had it 
not been that the sand was wet and soft from the receding 
tide. 


CHAPTER X, 

The aspect of nature in Morocco is peculiar and striking. 
There are comparatively but few signs of cultivation, and yet 
the country has an old look, that gives it a very different ap- 
pearance from any of the thinly peopled districts of the New 
World. The towns, which are mainly inhabited by the true 
Moors, many of them the descendants of the expatriated Sara- 
cens of Andalusia, mingled with Jews, negro slaves, and Christ- 
ian renegades, who, in the present day, mostly consist of 
escaped convicts and deserters from the Spanish garrison of 
Ceuta, are few and wide apart. There are no villages, but in 
their place are the douahs or groups of low brown tents in- 
habited by the Arabs, or rather by a mixed race of Arabs and 
Africans. These at a little distance can scarcely be distinguish- 
ed from clumps of palmetto bushes which in many parts dot 
the slopes of the hills. In the great plains, like that in which 
stands the city of Morocco, the country at certain seasons is 
strikingly beautiful. Nothing can surpass the rich profusion 
of the affluent vegetation. Luxuriant fields of wheat and bar- 
ley wave in the breeze, laden with the odors of a thousand flow- 


78 


THE BERBER, 


ering plants, chiefly of the bulbous kind. Herds of cattle and 
horses may be seen trampling the tall grass, or reposing under 
the shade of innumerable palms. But in the dry season all 
this beauty vanishes, and an air of desolation and decay per- 
vades the wide horizon. Even when vegetation is most 
flourishing, the traveler is struck with the vast disproportion 
between the spontaneous productions of nature and the re- 
turns of direct agricultural appliances. The Arabs, who are 
a mixed race, composed partly of the original Saracenic in- 
vaders, and of the crowds of emigrants from Arabia who fob 
lowed th^conquest, partly of the original inhabitants of the 
p^ins, and partly of Lybian tribes, who have poured in from 
the borders of the Saharah, are too idle and ignorant to de- 
velop a tithe of the natural capabilities ol the soil. The des- 
potism of the Government — the exactions and oppressions of 
bashaws and inferior agents, have wrought their inevitable and 
legitimate effects, the demoralization and depopulation of the 
country. It may be questioned whether the whole empire 
contains five millions of people. The great plain of Morocco 
alone could^ if properly cultivated, easily support twice that 
number. ^ 

In the northern part of the empire, from Fez and Mequi- 
tiez to the Straits of Gibraltar, the aspect of the country is 
still more desolate. The entire absence of houses, except oc- 
casionally the whitewashed sanctorea of celebrated saints; 
of fences, bridges or roads ; the hills low and brown, or co- 
vered with scraggy pines and dwarf oaks; marshes over- 
grown with willows; and plains cut up by water-course, s 
and covered with wild mustard, furze, palmetto bushes and 
thistle — present a scene or scenes at once disagreeable and 
pleasing, saddening and inspiring; and, to extend the appa- 
rent paradox, ugly and unfit for a picture, yet delightfully 
picturesque. 

As it is now, so was the country in the days of Muley 
Ismael; and so was it when, one morning, a few days after the 
arrival of the corsair at Salee, a large party might have been 
seen skirting the small forest of oak that stretches from the 
plain of Marmora up to the spurs of the Atlas. It consisted 
of about a hundred Moorish horsemen, and fifty or sixty 
Christian prisoners, chained two and two, on foot. In the 
rear rode two female figures, closely muffled to their eyes, in 
haicks of white woollen. They were mounted upon mules, 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


i/9 

and were accompanied by a young man, riding a fine gray 
barb; behind these came a black, followed by a dozen Moors; 
with firelocks carried across the front of the saddle. These 
last were a few of the most devoted followers of the com- 
mander of the party, in whom the reader, of course, at once 
recognizes Hassan Herach. 

The party had been obliged to make a detour from the 
direct road to Mequinez, for fear of the Ait Amore, who, re- 
port said, had defeated a body of troops that the Sultan had 
sent against them, and had even issued from their strong- 
holds in the hills, and were ravaging the country west of the 
capital. 

Although anxious to communicate with, and obtain as- 
sirtance from his friend, the Berber chieftain, the young rais 
thought it best to conform to the unanimous advice of his 
own officers, and of the guard furnished him by the Bashaw 
of Salee, and alter his route to tbe capital. In the first place, 
he felt the necessity of extreme caution to allay suspicion of 
his motives and objects; and, in the second place, he did not 
like to risk an encounter with the mountaineers unless they 
should be under the immediate command of their chief. 
Hassan judged it most prudent to yield to the suggestions of 
a detour; but to despatch a message by a Berber of a tribe 
with whom the Moors were at peace, to acquaint Casbin 
Subah with his movements, and and to request his assistance. 

The road, or rather bridle-track, leaving the shelter of the 
cork woods, now entered upon a small open plain. As they 
came out, so as to have a clear horizon, the first file halted at 
the sight of a dozen horses, who came galloping over the hills 
from a quarter indicating that they too had come, although 
by a different road, from Salee. In a few moments it was seen 
that they were Moors, although at the first glance the rais 
had indulged a hope that it might be the advance guard of 
Casban Subah, and his countenance fell when he recognized in 
the leader of the approaching troop the kaid of the slaves. 
I'he kaid, however, seemed to have no hostile intentions. 
Saluting the young rais, as if nothing to mar their harmony 
had occurred between them, he passed on and mingled with 
the soldiers of the escort. 

“Son of a burnt grandfather,” muttered Hassan, *^your 
politeness shall not impose upon me. You have some scheme 
of revenge in your head, but I shall watch you.” 


8o 


THE BERBER. 


Eagerly the rais scanned the horizon, but there was no 
sign of the Berber chief. ‘‘He ought to meet us here if any- 
where,” he whispered to Isabel, “God grant that he received 
my message. If he comes we will fly to the hills, and there 
we may bid defiance to this kaid and even to the Sultan him- 
self.” 

“ God grant that it may be as you wish,” replied Isabel, 
“but what chance of escape from the hills? Shall we not 
be shut up in the mountains for life? I have heard that no 
Christain captive ever obtains his freedom except through the 
agency of the Fathers of the Redemption.” 

“ Never fear, seiiorita; if we can secure the protection of 
the chief of the Beni Mozarg, we shall have time to look 
about us, and, trust me, some opportunity will offer by 
which you may leave the country, notwithstanding the jea- 
lous watchfulness of the Moors. But to fly, we must keep the 
wings of desire feathered with the plumes of freedom, and 
then the higher the start the more easy it will" be to sweep 
over the dangerous lowlands.” 

“Who and what is this mountain chief?” suddenly ex- 
claimed Juanita, as the rais paused after his metaphorical 
flight. “Is he old or young, savage or civilized? I have 
been told that the people of Mount Atlas are much more bar- 
barous than the Moors.” 

“ Whoever told you so, sehorita,” replied Hassan, “ does 
them great injustice. True, there are very different degrees 
of civilization prevailing among the numerous tribes and 
families into which they are divided. The Beni Mozarg, a 
branch of the great tribe of Ait Amore, are as far removed 
from barbarism as the inhabitants of any district of your own 
Spain. Much of this is due to their position ; within a day’s 
ride of Mequinez, easily accessible, and yet easily defensi- 
ble, they have enjoyed many advantages over their brethren 
who have maintained their freedom and ignorance in the 
deeper recesses of the mountains. Much is also due to their 
late amekran or chief, and to his son, the present amekran 
H’rushe, or as he is called by Moors., Cash in ibn Sib ah Tedla, 
or Casbin the Lion of the Atlas, and well does he deserve 
che title. There is not a Berber chief so dreaded and hated 
by the Sultan.’' 

'“Is he young or old ?” demanded Juanita. 

‘Tn years he is but a youth,” replied the rais, “but in wis- 


A TALE pF MOROCCO. 


8l 


dom, prudence and fame he is as old as the oldest. He has 
been in your country, too, Sehorita, and speaks Spanish well. 
Look out for your heart when you encounter him. I see 
that you are beginning to feel an interest in him even now,” 
continued Hassan, his compased features relaxing into a 
pleasant smile, ‘‘Have a care, Sehorita, the Berber has that 
in his eyes that is said to frighten the boldest lion — and 
what frightens lions is very apt to soften women’s hearts.” 

“Fear not for me, Sehor, if we are going into the moun- 
tains there will be, I suspect, much more danger to appre- 
hend from the lion than his master. But tell me, is your 
hero as handsome as he is brave and accomplished ?” 

“ His face is perfect — his form faultless.” 

“Ha, I tremble — what say you, Isabel, can we trust our- 
selves in the presence of such a piragon?” 

“ You must take care of yourself,” replied Isabel, raising 
her eyes to the face of the rais, while a slight blush qualified 
the smile with which she spoke. “As for me, I apprehend 
no danger were he twice the hero he appears to be.” 

“But he is as gentle and kind-hearted as he is handsome, 
I suppose,” said Juanita; “ all heroes are so. Oh! I wish he 
would come. I don’t feel the least afraid of him. Santa 
Maria I know will protect me; and, besides, he is your friend, 
you say.” 

“We were companions in boyhood when I dwelt among 
the Berbers of Tedla. I took him in my galley to Algiers, 
whence he embarked for Sicily and Spain, on a visit to the 
monuments of his Berber and Vandal ancestors, who once 
ruled as conquerors over those fair lands. Since' then there 
have but few messages passed between us, but my heart would 
be as lead did I think that the rust of aDsence had eaten 
through the strong links in the chain of our friendship.” 

Hassan again stretched himself up in his stirrups and 
strained his eyes over the plain, but still no sign of the Ber- 
ber. The rais began to entertain the conviction that his 
message had miscarried, or that it had found the Berber not 
in a condition to afford him assistance, in which case there 
would be no alternative to moving on with his captives to the 
city. 

As the party proceeded they passed a douah where were 
assembled the inhabitants of several other villages, all of 
whom were actively engaged in celebrating the marriage of 


82 


THE BERBER, 


♦ 

the sheik’s son. A party of young men were busily employed 
in loading and firing three or four old muskets; others were 
industriously extracting as much noise as possible, by the'aid 
of crooked sticks, from a couple of drums. Guitars, tam- 
bourines, and reed flutes, added to the harmony; while a noisy 
group were engaged in playing a game of ball, the skill of 
which consisted in striking the ball with the sole of the foot, 
and knocking it perpendicularly into the air. 

Upon the appearance of the Christians all amusements 
were suspended, and men, women and children, rushed to see 
the dogs of unbelievers. Curses and imprecations, and even 
sticks and stones, were showered upon them without mercy, 
and it was only by quickening their pace, and hurrying them 
beyond the reach of the infuriated mob, that the guards 
could save their prisoners from serious maltreatment. j 

Toward night the sanctuary of the renowned Muley Idris 
came in sight, and a city named after tliQ same saint, which 
stands on the slope of Zarhon, one of the offshoots of the 
Atlas. The travelers were going on to encamp under the 
walls of this great city, but were prevented by the people in 
charge of the sanctuary, who would not permit the pollution 
of so sacred a place by the nearer approach of the Christians. 

The camp was at length selected about a league from the 
city, on ground covered with magnificent ruins. Hundreds 
of marble columns, numerous square blocks of stone, and 
two porticos thirty feet high, attesting the size and splendor 
of what the natives call the Kassar FarawaUy or the castle 
of Pharaoh — a structure probably of the days when Mauri- 
tania was a Roman province. 

A small tent had been provided for the sisters — an atten- 
tion that excited a good deal of remark among the followers 
of the rais, and not a little curiosity to see the beauty that 
could induce a pious Mohammedan to treat with so much 
consideration the women of the Kaffirs. The anxiety of 
Hassan prevented sleep. All night he kept on the look-out 
for some sign of the Berber. It was now four hours’ journey 
to Mequinez, and unless the chieftain appeared before noon 
of the coming day, it would be necessary to enter the city, 
surrender his male prisoners, and trust to the caprices of the 
Sultan for permission to retain the guardianship of the sisters. 

‘Hf it were not for this black scoundrel, the kaid of the 
slaves, all would go right,” thought Ha§§an, as he coiled 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 83 

himself beside a fallen column in the attitude of sleep, but 
with eyes and ears open for the slightest movement. 

At the first glimmering of dawn the camp was aroused ; 
the slaves were marshaled in traveling order; the tent of 
the sisters was struck, and the mules brought up and saddled. 
Juanita was first helped to her seat by the rais, and he was 
turning to perform the same office for her sister, when sud- 
denly a tremendous uproar arose at the head of the column 
— shouts, blows and imprecations, mingled with loud calls for 
Hassan Herach, arrested the movements of the rais. 

“ Rest here for a moment, and you, Selim, look well to 
their safety,” exclaimed Hassan, while I see what this dis- 
turbance is about.” 

Hassan darted off in the direction of the hubbub; and the 
few Moors standing by, with the exception of Selim, followed 
his example. 

At this instant a horse, with his rider, turned an angle of 
the ruined masonry, and, leaping a prostrate column, was 
brought crouching instantaneously to a stand, by the side of the 
mule on which was seated the younger sister. So sudden was 
his appearance that it seemed as if he had leaped down from 
the top of the lofty, portico. 

Throwing his arm round the waist of Juanita, the rider 
whirled her from her seat, and placed her before him. Selim 
made a spring at the horse’s head; but dropping the reins, 
and driving the sharp corners of his stirrup irons into the 
side of his barb, the horseman dealt the black a blow in the 
face with his fist that felled him to the ground, and then 
shooting by him, like an arrow, disappeared in the deep 
gloom of the early dawn, amid the labyrinth of ruins and 
bushes. 

A shriek from Isabel brought Hassan back to her side. 

Juanita! gone!” he exclaimed, where is the kaid of the 
slaves 1” and, like a flash, the whble plot burst upon him. 
The hubbub in the camp had been created by the followers 
of the kaid to attract his attention, and allow their master to 
seize one of the sisters. The plan was partly one of revenge 
for the insult he had received; and partly one of intense 
desire to possess a captive beautiful enough to deserve the 
care evinced by Hassan. 

** Seize and bind the dogs!” shouted Hassan to the guards; 
^‘cut them down, if they resist 5 on my head be the blame.” 


84 


THE BERBER, 


The followers of the kaid, who were preparing to mount 
their horses, were at once seized and bound. The prompti- 
tude with which the energetic order was- -obeyed, tooK them 
somewhat by surprise; there was no resistance, and not one 
succeeded in getting away after his master. 

Giving strict orders that no one should stir from the 
camp, and leaving Isabel, trembling and speechless, in charge 
of Selim and a confidential officer of the corsair, the rais 
hurriedly drew off with the mounted men belonging to his 
own crew. His orders were short, and to the purpose: One 
of you follow me — the rest divide into parties of two each — 
take different directions, spare not the spur, and cut down 
the black scoundrel without hesitation. Away with you! a 
thousand metcals of gold to him who brings back the 
maiden!’’ 

It was rapidly growing lighter; but, although there was a 
wide view over the plain of Muley Idris, there was no kaid 
to be seen. The pursuing parties spurred off in different 
directions, the rais choosing that in which the kaid had been 
seen to depart. He had not gone far, however, before he 
perceived that from the nature of the ground, cut up as it 
was into ravines and watercourses, the chance of overhauling 
the kaid before reaching the wooded slopes of the hills was a 
poor one. 

It would need a hundred men,” he muttered through his 
clenched teeth. Son of Ebliss! may I be doubly cursed of 
Mohammed and Christ but you shall rue this day!” 

The sun was now above the horizon, and eagerly the young 
rais strained his eyes, practised in the long vision of the 
sailor, over the wide expanse that, as he rose the numerous 
hillocks of the plain, was exposed to view. He could see the 
ruins of Kassar Farawan, and the moving figures of his Moor- 
ish guards and their prisoners, and, far in the distance, there 
were horsemen scouring the country at full speed. Several 
parties of Arabs, men and women, bearing burdens on their 
heads, and driving before them their little donkeys laden 
with articles for the market of Muley Idris were encountered, 
but none of them had seen the object of his search. 

A slight clue was afforded by a man who was ploughing by 
means of a crooked wooden stick, to which were harnessed a 
couple of cows, by ropes fastened to their horns. The man 
was entirely naked, A woman in nearly an equal state of 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


85 

nudity (permitting a view, common in Barbary, of several 
crosses tattooed upon the skin), followed with a basket of 
barley, which she distributed in the furrows, or rather 
scratches, made by the primitive plough. 

To the anxious questionings of Hassan he replied, that he 
had seen a mounted djin flit by him in the gray of the morn- 
ing, bearing a large burden before him ; but that if it was 
he tha^ lis questioner was in search of, he must have had 
time to reach the cork woods on the slope of the hill — where 
pursuit, even with a thousand men, v^ould be hopeless. 


CHAPTER XL 

Like all his countrymen, the kaid was a bold rider. His 
steed was one of the best from the Sultan’s stables at 
Maraskin. He had also the advantage of a good start, and 
an intimate knowledge of the ground. Keeping to the 
labyrinth of watercourses made by the Winter tributaries of 
the Ordom, he directed his flight for the hills, where he 
expected to be joined by his followers; and then to make his 
way unto Mequinez in time to forestall the rais with the 
jealous Sultan. 

For a long time Juanita lay insensible in his arms, and 
when she did recover she found herself so firmly grasped, and 
so tightly muffled in her haick, that at first she was incapable 
of motion. But with returning consciousness returned a good 
portion of her natural courage and resolution. She addressed 
the kaid in Spanish; but, unlike the town Moors, he could 
speak nothing but Arabic, in which language he sternly en- 
joined silence, and fiercely spurred on. Juanita understood 
the injunction ; and at once she shouted, at the top of her 
lungs,, as they dashed by two or three black tents, in front rf 
which were seated some women engaged in making buUtr, 
by shaking and thumping goat-skin bags filled wifh milk. A 
muttered curse, and a blow on the mouth, were followed by 
a tighter grasp of her person, and away the gallant barb 
bounded beyond the reach of aid from the douah. 

Juanita bethought herself of her dagger ; and with right 
good will would she have used it could she have drawn it 
from beneath the folds of her dress. 


86 


THE BERBER, 


The kaid, having reached the ascending ground, forced 
his horse, for a short distance, up the dry bed of a mountain 
torrent ; and then wheeling him to an eminence covered 
with tab palmetto bushes, paused for a moment to look back. 
He saw the horsemen of the rais scouring the plain ; he saw 
the rais himself, and knew from his movements that he was 
completely at fault, and shaking his bridle-hand contemptu- 
ously, and muttering an Arabic imprecation, he turned and 
spurred among the winding glades of the ilex and cork 
forest. 

For full a quarter of an hour the kaid kept on at full 
speed ; when suddenly he checked his steed by the banks of 
a small stream, aud swinging Juanita to the ground, dis- 
mounted, and secured his horse. 

Come,” he exclaimed, “let me see what my prize is’ 
worth and, advancing, he seized her haick, and with no 
gentle grasp, tore it away from her face. 

Juanita’s limbs were stiffened by the compressien and' 
jolting of her short but desperate ride ; and her spirit froze 
within her as she caught a full sight of the negro’s ugly and 
malignant visage, seamed as it was with the small-pox, and 
marked by the play of the most sensual passions. She tot- 
tered backward, and would have fallen had she not caught 
for support at the trunk of a tree. 

The kaid, on his part, was not less astonished. He was a 
great admirer of Christian beauty; but he had formed no 
idea ot such loveliness; and he paused, for a moment, in 
delighted contemplation of something so new, and so fresh, 
so different from anything that he had before seen 

“ There are no heaven and no houris in the next world, 
he muttered, “for the Christians — may the curse of the Pro- 
phet rest on them forever — and so God sends them good- 
looking women in this. No wonder the rais— may my dagger 
some day. blush with his heart’s blood — no wonder he wished 
to pluck this flower of the Kaffir for himself. Can the other 
be equal to her ? By the beard of the prophet I will have 
1 e , too.” 

The kaid again advanced toward Juanita. There was 
something in the gleam of his eye that roused to desperation 
the indomitable spirit of the young girl, and ‘starting to her 
feet, she drew the dagger from beneath her dress, and made 
a furious blow at his breast, The will was good, but her arm 


A lALE OF MOROCCO. 


S7 


Avanted force; and, springing back, the astonished and en- 
raged negro escaped with but a slight wound. Again he ad- 
vanced upon her; but Juanita, by flourishing the dagger, 
kept him at bay. 

The contest could not have lasted long, as the strength of 
the young girl was beginning to fail her, and the kaid was 
already looking around for a stick with which to beat down 
her guard, when suddenly a new corner appeared upon the 
scene — so suddenly and so noiselessly, that he seemed to 
Juanita’s eyes to have arisen from the ground. 

He was a middle-sized figure, clad in a coarse gray djel- 
labeah, the hood of which was drawn so far over his head as 
to completely conceal his features. He was mounted upon a 
tall black barb. A long musket rested across his lap, and at 
his saddle-bow rested an old-fashioned Arabic war-club, with 
a steel head, a most formidable weapon when wielded in the 
close melee^ or when hurled with unerring precision in the 
chase. 

Quietly he sat upon his motionless steed and looked at 
the two before him. The instant Juanita’s eyes caught sight 
of him, she dropped her dagger and shrieked to him to aid 
her, and then the impossibility of making known her story in 
Arabic flashed upon her; her lips became blanched and silent, 
and her heart sank in despair. The next instant the recol- 
lection of the corsair’s name came to her mind, and she started 
forward repeating the words rais,Hassan Herach, and point- 
ing in the direction of the ruins of Kassar Farawan. 

‘‘ Speak Spanish, seiiorita,” exclaimed the horseman, I 
understand it. Tell me how it is that you are here, and why 
you use the name of tfie famous rover of Salee ?” 

It would be impossible to describe the sudden revulsion of 
feeling, from despair to hope, that came over the maiden’s 
heart as the full mellow tones of the stranger’s voice fell upon 
her ear. Rapidly she ran over the leading points of her story. 

‘‘ Enough, seiiorita,” exclaimed the horseman, with a eour- 
tepus wave of his hand. Calm yourself now. You can tell 
me more when I have sent this hound to his kennel.” 

Deliberately turning to the kaid, who had hardly had time 
to make up his mind as to how he should receive any inter- 
ference in the affair, the stranger pointed to his horse and 
sternly ordered him to mount. 

And who are you,” demanded the negro, who dares to 


88 


THE BERBER, 


order Hammed ben Slowick, chief kaid of the slaves? On 
your head be any interference between me and my slave.” 

Without a word, the stranger lightly sprang to the ground, 
leaving the gun and battle-club suspended to the saddle-bow. 
'The kaid drew his sword, but the stranger, unheeding the 
action, advanced with a peculiarly elastic and vigorous step 
until within three or four feet, when he stopped, drew back 
the hood of his djellabeah a little, and spoke a few words in 
a low tone. 

The kaid’s face grew almost white with terror. His lips 
quivered and his eye-balls started from his head, as with 
trembling steps he retreated backward until he reached his 
horse. Once fairly in the saddle, he hesitated for a moment. 
The stranger waved his hand impatiently, and with a groan 
of mingled rage and fear, the kaid gave the rein to his horse, 
and set off at full speed. 

Ihe noise of his horse’s hoofs died away among the echoes 
of the forest. The stranger threw himself upon the ground 
and lay for a few moments with his ear pressed to the earth. 

‘‘ Right,” he exclaimed, rising; ‘‘ he has taken the path for 
Mequinez. He will trouble us no more.” 

Advancing to Juanita, he took her hand, and quietly lead- 
ing her to a bank of turf bordering the rushing stream, re- 
quested her to be seated. ‘‘Compose yourself, fair maiden,” 
said the stranger, addressing her with a tone and air decidedly 
chivalresque. “ Have no further fear. ‘You are here as safe 
as you would be in the groves of the Guadalete. You can 
trust me.” 

“Oh, I do!” exclaimed Juanita, earnestly; “most fully, 
most perfectly.” 

The stranger seemed somewhat amused with her impulsive 
and energetic reply. “ And yet, senorita, you know nothing , 
of me — you have hardly seen my features — ” 

“ But I have heard your voice,” interrupted the young girl, 
“and I cannot be mistaken; ohl I am sure that no cruelty or 
treachery can lurk in such a voice.” 

“ ’Tis the Spanish words, fair maiden — ’tis the sound of 
your native language that, perhaps, deceives you — you forget 
that I am a Moor.” 

The stranger threw back upon his shoulders the deep hood 
of his djellabeah, and exposed a head and face that might have 
served for a model of an Antinous in bronze. The features 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


89 

were perfectly regular and very youthful; a wide smooth 
forehead, partially concealed by the folds of the turban ; a 
nose aquiline and exquisitely formed, and lips short, curved, 
and liioderately full, were well set off by jetty brows, mus- 
tache and beard. It was the eye, however, that was* the 
most striking feature. It was not black, but a blue so deep 
and clear as to have the same effect, except when, in some 
lights, the bluish tints flashed out in incongruous contrast to 
the deep bronze of the complexion. 

It was this complexion that proved in Juanita’s eyes, as 
she contemplated for a moment the features of the young 
man, the only drawback to his beauty: not that it was too 
dark, but it was so unnatural, so untransparent, so much like 
a painted complexion. 

The stranger hesitated for a moment, and then a twinkle 
of boyish glee played in the depths of his blue eye. With- 
out a word he raised his hand, and seizing his cap and 
turban threw them upon the ground. This movement, which 
would have served to reveal the closely cropped head of a 
Moor, liberated a profusion of yellowish auburn hair that fell 
in clustering curls over his brow and a-down his neck. 

The incongruity of light hair with a black beard and skin 
was complete, and gave to the young man a singular and 
somewhat comical appearance in the eyes of the puzzled 
Juanita. 

The stranger watched her bewildered look for a moment, 
and then burst into a low mirthful laugh, while his large eyes 
sparkled with the spirit of fun. There was something so 
genial, so good-humored, and so boyish in his tones, that 
Juanita was compelled to join him, although she would have 
found it difficult to tell what they were laughing at. 

The senorita hardly knows what to think of such an odd- 
looking being,” said the stranger, but if she will rest here 
for a moment, I will endeavor to make myself look a little 
less like a mamarracho or an enmascarado, I am growing too 
anxious for your approving glances, senorita, to bate any of 
my natural advantages.” 

So saying, he rose, and, advancing to the brink of the 
stream, sprang lightly down the bank to the water. Here he 
produced from a pouch at his girdle a piece of the argilla- 
ceous saponaceous earth used as a cosmetic by the ladies of 


90 




Morocco, and proceeded to wash away the temporary color- 
ing materials that darkened his skin and beard. 

It would have been difficult for Juanita, had she been 
much more practised in such matters than she was, to have 
analyzed the feelings with which she awaited the return of 
her singular companion. Hope, confidence, curiosity, won- 
der, exercised her mind, and then came fear — fear that she 
was dreaming — that her protector had deserted her, and that 
the kaid would return. 

Her apprehensions, however, endured but for a moment, 
for seizing the projecting arm of a dwarf oak, the stranger 
leaped, with a bound light as that of a gazelle, to the top of 
the bank, and stood before her. 

His appearance was now much more youthful — certainly 
not over twenty-two or twenty-three years. His beard, full 
and curling, was of the color of his hair, while his skin was- 
clear and ruddy, although somewhat darkened by exposure 
to the sun. 

He threw himself upon the ground at the feet of Juanita. 

‘^And what does the senorita think now?” he demanded. 

Am I a Moor?” 

know not what to think,” replied Juanita. ‘^You can- 
not be a Moor, and you certainly are not a Spaniard, 
although you speak the language so fluently.” 

And yet, senorita, you can trust me 1 You, so young, 
so lovely, lovely even beyond the fairest creature of my 
dreams, are not afraid of me? a stranger — alone, in this 
forest ! Know you not, senorita, that it was not unfrequently 
the custom for distressed damsels to reward the knights who 
succored them.” 

There was a slight tone of mockery in his voice that 
brought the tear to Juanita’s eye. Her lips trembled with 
vexation as she replied : 

Recreant knights, false to honor and to beauty, only, 
could exact rewards for services in time of need to my sex. 
No ! I can trust you, but if I could not I am not afraid of 
you. You forget that I have my dagger.” 

“A poor guard, senorita, to those ripe lips of yours,” 
laughed the stranger. Why in a moment more, if I had 
not arrived, the kaid would have forced the weapon out of 
your hand, and you would have been at the mercy of an in- 
furiated beast.” 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


91 


‘‘True,” replied Juanita, “because, in that case, the blind 
instinct was to strike at the attacking animal; but if you — ” 

“Well, what then ? Suppose I stood in the kaid’s place,” 
demanded the stranger, and a slight sneer curled his curved 
upper lip. 

“Then— then I would strike the dagger into my own 
heart,” exclaimed Juanita, passionately, and overcome by her 
vexation, she burst into a flood of tears.” 

Buono ! hiiono ! senorita,” said the stranger, clapping 
his hands, “Hike the distinction — I appreciate the compli- 
ment! But,” he continued, in the gentlest tones ‘‘ why these 
tears ? I meant not to offend you. I believe you to be as 
pure and good as you are lovely. Think equally well of me, 
I will deserve your good opinion. But you must needs know 
more of me. Hast ever heard of the Berbers ?” 

“ The mountaineers of the Atlas ?” 

“ The same' Berbers, or Brebbers, they are called by the 
Moors and Arabs; but among themselves they know not the 
name. Their true title is Amazerg, the noble, or Amaergt^ 
the free. Among the hills I am an Amazerg ” — and, as he 
spoke, the stranger’s eye glanced with a flash of pride — 
“here, I am a Berber.” 

“And the amekran of the Beni Mozarg,” said Juanita. 

The young man started with an expression of surprise; 
and then, bowing, he replied, “ Your wit flies as straight and 
as true to my title as the glances of your eyes do to my 
heart. The amekranelarch of the Beni Mozarg, is at your 
feet, senorita.” 

Juanita’s eyes fell beneath the steady look of admiration 
that rested on her face; and a slight blush was the only reply 
to the compliment. 

“ And is this a mark of the Berber blood ?” she said, after 
a pause, slightly touching the masses of golden curls that 
fell aside his cheek; “ methought they were a dark-haired 
race.” 

“There are differences in the tribes,” replied the Berber; 
“our people have never been conquered; but they have 
more or less felt the influence of the tides of conquest that 
have, in different ages, swept over the lowlands between the 
foot of our mountains and the Mediterranean. First came 
the Carthagenians, then the Romans, and then the Vandals. 
With these latter, my own tribe, the Beni Mozarg, had inti- 


92 


THE BERBER, 


mate relations. A chieftain of the Mozarg married a daugh- 
ter of Genseric, and ’tis the blood of that conqueror that 
makes my skin lighter than my kindred of the tribes. But 
you seem interested in what I say of my people, and well 
you may; I doubt not that Berber blood flows in your veins.” 

In mine,^' exclaimed Juniata, ^^how can that be?” 

You are an Andalusian, and you doubtless have heard 
how the Saracens once conquered the greater part of Spain, 
and how the traces of the Arabic race can be perceived in the 
present inhabitants of the Southern half of the peninsula. 
But it is all false; ’twas the Berbers who conquered l^ain. 
’Twas the Berbers, in the gallant bands of Tarik Ibn Zeyed 
and his master, Mirza Ibh Nasseyr, who overthrew the Gothic 
monarchy in Spain. ’Twas the Berbers who composed the 
vast array that, under Yusef Ibn Tashfir, defeated the hosts of 
Alfonzo on the field of Zalaca. ’Twas the Berbers who, 
under the great Yakoob Almanzor, routed the King of Castile 
on the plains of Alarcos, aad who swept triumphant through 
the country to the hills of Asturias; and it was the Berbers 
who followed Mohammed Ibn Abdallah by hundreds of thou- 
sands to the fields of Las Narvas.” 

The eye of the Berber flashed, and his countenance glowed 
with a stern and lofty expression that it would in moments 
of repose seem almost impossible for his features to assume. 
Suddenly his expression changed, and he uttered again his 
peculiar boyish laugh. Pardon me, senorita,” he said, 
taking her hand. I am getting patriotic and heroic when I 
ought to be gallant and sentimental, but it is a mood I am 
apt to fall into.” 

^Tt suits you,” returned Juanita, smiling, ‘‘and I like it;, 
although, as a true Spaniard, when you boast of the conquest 
of my country by the Berbers, I might ask who it was that 
beat them back to their own mountains? I might ask how it 
is that they now suffer the dominion of the Moor ?” 

“The dominion of the Moor! Never. In the hills we are 
as free as we have ever been since our tribes first came from 
the East, long before the Phoenician stranded his bark upon 
the shore of Carthage. But in the smaller hills and on the 
plains, where our people have mixed with other populations, 
we give a nominal submission. Even that, however, is 
wholly due to the deadly feuds of our tribes; and mark me, 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


93 


Senorita, the day will come when the Berbers will know the 
power of union, and then — ” 

The young man paused; and again, relapsing into his 
boyish tone, he exclaimed gaily, ‘‘But, senorita, this is idle 
talk, when we should be thinking of a fitting termination to 
your adventure. You have the choice of two courses, either 
to go with me to my kassar, where you will be in perfect 
safety, or to rejoin your sister and the rais Herach.^’ 

“ Oh let us go to my sister,’’ exclaimed Isabel. 

“ And if you go to her, you will have to go with her to 
Mequinez. There you will be exposed to dangers which I 
doubt whether the rais will have power to protect you from. 
The kaid will be there. I easily frightened him away, be^ 
cause I have the reputation of being in league with the Evil 
One, and the Moors are terribly superstitious; but I am 
afraid that he will not so easily give you up within the walls 
of the city.” 

Juanita paused, and looked for a moment on the ground. 
As she raised her eyes, she caught the inquiring glances of 
the Berber fixed upon her, and noticed something of the same 
mocking expression that had once before attracted her at- 
tention. 

“I will go to my sister,” impetuously exclaimed Juanita: 
“ her fate shall be mine.” 

“But you forget, senorita; her fate may be to be the wife 
of Hassan; and from what you have told me, I gather that it 
would not much displease her. Your fate jnay be to be the 
slave of the kaid.” 

“I will go to my sister,” exclaimed Juanita, clutching the 
hilt of the dagger. 

“ ’Tis well, Senorita. Here, Boroon! Boroon!” — and the 
horse, who had not stirred from the spot where his master 
had left him, came trotting up, like a dog, at the call. “^Tis 
well, Senorita; but I have traveled in your country, and I 
saw but few damsels who, in your case, would have decided 
against my kassar. Come, Senorita, a short ride, and then — ” 

The sentence remained unfinished. Bending from his 
saddle, the young man seized Juanita around the waist, and 
with singular ease and dexterity raised her from the ground- 
and placed her on the croup of the horse behind him. 

“Hold fast by the folds of my sash,’’ he exclaimed, “and 
fear not. Boroon would hardly shake a feather from him 


94 


THE J^h:RBER, 


and drawing his hood far over his face, he gave the word to 
his steed, which at once stretched out in a long skimming 
pace that soon carried Juanita clear of the forest by a wide 
open path running almost at right angles to the one by which 
she had entered. 

A half hour’s gallop through the open country, during 
which no words had been spoken, except a few questions 
and answers as to the brother of the rais, Edward Carlyle, 
when suddenly the Berber drew rein upon the brow of an 
eminence that commanded a view of the wide plain. 

‘‘Do you see that troop of horsemen?” he said, indicating 
the object he mentioned with his hand, “ that is the caval- 
cade of Hassan Herach. They will come directly beneath 
this hill. Keep yourself out of sight until they are near 
enough to make sure that your sister and the rais are present. 
It will not suit my purposes to be seen. I will watch you 
from yonder cliff until you join them. Tell the rais that I 
received his message not three hours since, but that I knew 
not the assistance he required. My people have retreated to 
the hills. It would take three or four days to collect force 
enough to overpower so large an escort as accompanies 
the captives of the rais. Tell him, however, to be of good 
heart, and that I may be of service to him even yet. Say to 
him that I will meet him in Mequinez. And now, sehorita, 
adieu. Forget me not, and be sure that I shall remember 
you.” 

The Berber threw his arm around her waist, and lifting her 
as if she had been a child, whirled her gently round in front 
of him, and held her for a moment suspended in the air. He 
leaned forward and imprinted a kiss upon her lips. 

^‘We shall meet again,” he murmured — “Adieu!” and 
then lowering her to the ground, struck his spurs into his 
horse, and was off like a bird on the wing. 

Poor Juanita 1 for some minutes she stood bewildered — 
stupefied — gazing after the flying steed and its strange rider. 
It seemed a dream, yet there could be no doubt of the 
reality. The glowing kiss of the stranger had passed the 
portals of her pouting lips, and burned like a coal at her 
heart, 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


95 


Chapter xii. 


The first, greatest, and most essential requisite in writing 
a novel, is, that the writer should have a story to tell, and 
that he should tell it. Long-drawn descriptions of character 
or scenery, fine-spun samples of sentiment, historical disqui- 
sitions or philosophical essays, no writer of a novel has any 
title to inflict upon his readers. But while maintaining this 
view of the author’s privileges, and the reader’s rights, to a 
degree far beyond what the common practices of the day 
require, it must nevertheless be admitted, that at times the 
current of the story may be arrested, for a few moments, for 
explanations, and remarks essential to the full comprehension 
of plot, character, or situation. If this is true under ordinary 
circumstances, it is peculiarly so in the present case, when 
the course of the story brings upon the scene a specimen of 
a people so little known to most readers as the inhabitants of 
Mount Atlas; and no further apology will be, perhaps, 
necesssary for devoting a page or two concentrating the few 
rays of light that have been collected by D’Avazac, Graberg, 
Venture, Hodgson, Delaporte and other learned philologists 
and ethnographers. • 

The whole range of the Atlas is inhabited by a most an- 
cient people — the Numidians and Mauritanians, genus in- 
super abile bello of the Roman writers. In Algiers they are 
now familiar to the public under the name of the Kabyles — 
literally, ‘‘ the tribes.” In the northern part of Morocco, in 
the kingdom of Fez, they are known as Berbers, Brebbers, ©r 
Baraba. In the Southern and Western valleys of the Atlas, 
below the city of Morocco, and particularly in the provinces 
of Hhahha, Soos, and Guzzula, they are called Sheliooh. 

The Kabyles, the Berbers, and the Sheliooh, speak distinct 
dialects — so much so, that it is said they cannot readily hold 
communication with each other; but it is now pretty well 
ascertained that these dialects are radically the same language; 
and that to this same old, widely-diffused Berber language 


96 


THE BERBER, 


belongs the Terguah, or the dialect of the Tuarycks, the great 
nomadic tribes of the desert of Sahara — the Mozabeeah, or 
idiom of the Beni Mozab, on the northern fringe of the 
desert, and the Sergoo, spoken in the neighborhood of Tim- 
buctoo. 

The origin of the Berbers is involved in the greatest ob- 
scurity. According to their own traditions, and the asser- 
tions of Arabic historians, they come from Canaan. One 
account represents their ancestors as a colony of Philistines 
who fled to Africa upon the death of Goliath. Another 
makes them the descendants of the Amalekites and Canaai - 
ites, who were driven out by Joshua. iTis is the opinion of 
Procopius, who accompanied Belisarius in Ids African wars, 
and who asserts that he himself saw two columns of marb'e 
at Tangier bearing the inscription, ‘‘ We are the Canaanites 
who fled before Joshua the son of Nun, the notorious robber.” 
The testimony of Procopious, at least, serves to show that 
the tradition of the Canaanitish origin of the Berber is as old 
as the fifth century, and renders it possible that a Philistine 
emigration did take place in the lime of Joshua, although 
there can be no doubt that the country was then inhabited by 
tribes of a similar race, coming by successive emigrations 
long before from the East. 

The traditions of the Shellooh favor this supposition. 
They consider themselves the most ancient people, and rep- 
resent themselves as descended from Mazeg, son of Canaan; 
while their Northern neighbors are Philistines, descended 
from Casluhim, son of Misraim, The probabilities are, that 
the great aboriginal white race, the Mazigh, was made up by 
repeated emigrations from the coasts of the Levant at a date 
long anterior to the earliest historical period, in the same 
way that the Arabic elements of the lowlands of Northern 
Barbary are due to emigrations long anterior to the invasion 
of the country by the converts of Mohammed. One of the 
earliest of these Arabian eruptions was that of Melek Afriki, 
who came at the head of five tribes, the Senhaga, Massmu- 
dah, Zeneta, Hawarah, and Gumerah, the quinquegentani of 
the Romans. These Arabian emigrants probably mixed 
readil}^ with the Canaanitish inhabitants of the plains, as suc- 
ceeding emigrants have done; and this mixed race consti- 
tute what is known as the Moorish or Arabic population, en- 
tirely distinct from the aboriginal Berber. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


97 


Like their brethren, the Kabyles, and the Shelloohs, the 
Berbers are divided into tribes, between whom interminable 
feuds exist, some of which date back as far the era of Mo- 
hammed. An almost continued state of hostility is the con- 
sequence, and though capable of patching up a peace and 
uniting for resistance to an invader, the instant the external 
pressure is removed, the tribes resolve themselves into their 
varying elements, and the old feuds break out. It has ever 
been the policy of the Emperors of Morocco to encourage 
these feuds, and to fan the flames of family hate, as by that 
means they can secure a nominal authority over a few of the 
tribes, with, in some cases, a slight tribute from the most 
accessible. Many families of the Berbers, however, live in 
entire independence under their amckrans or a7tigars, and 
frequently a tribe or tribes wage desperate war with the 
Moors. Could the Berbers drop their hereditary family 
quarrels, and unite for any length of time, the Moorish 
dominion in Morocco would soon be at an end — the 
Berbers and Shelloohs numbering full one-half of the 
population, and being by far the most energetic and warlike 
race. 

The Berbers are a remarkably well-proportioned race, 
robust, active, lively and bold, with light complexions, many 
of them having hair as light as the people of Northern Europe. 
Morgan, who resided forty years in Barbary, in his curious 
and quaintly written history of Algiers, says ; ‘‘ I have 
never met with any North Britain, Dane, or any other, more 
carroty and freckled than I have known whole families of 
these mountaineers and others who have owned their descent 
from thence; and among the Arabs I nevercouldlight on one 
whose hair was not either jet black, or, at least, dark brown. 
These are generally swarthy, as are their Asiatic kindred, yet 
some of them have skins tolerably clear — nay, many of them 
far exceeding abundance of Southern Europeans. Again, as I 
said, many of the natural Africans, by mixing with the black 
slaves, together with being in a manner always exposed to the 
scorching sunbeams, have negro’s features and a very dusky 
hue. But what numbers of natural Africans have I not seen, 
particularly females, who, for well-featured countenances, fair 
curling locks, and wholesome ruddy looks, might vie with, and 
’'even be envied by the proudest European belles, who are hour_ 
ily persecuted by crowds of sighing, languishing admirers.’^ 


98 


THE BERBER, 


The Shelloohs are darker, although neither of them have any- 
thing in their personal appearance resembling the so-called 
Berbers or Brabra of Nubia. A peculiarly sinister and cruel 
expression of the eye, it has been said, is a characteristic. 
This is perhaps true of the Kabyles, but it is not so general 
with the Berbers, among whom the physiognomy of different 
tribes varies considerably, owing somewhat, it may be, to 
causes at work anterior to the historic period, but most 
probably to a greater or less contamination of some of 
the tribes by Punic, Roman, Arabic, Yandalic and Gothic 
blood. 

But whether the Berbers have the sinister look of their 
Algerine brethren or not, certain it is that the instinct of 
cruelty is fully developed in many of them in the present 
day, and particularly among that portion of them who are 
nearest to European civilization. The Reefians, or inhabi- 
tants of the great spur of the Atlas that stretches down to the 
Straits of Gibraltar, have as bad a reputation as any people 
in Barbary. The most inhospitable and dangerous place 
for shipwrecked Christians on the whole coast of Africa is 
beyond doubt within the Straits, almost under the guns of 
Gibraltar, at the foot of Abyla, now Djebel Moussa or Ape’s 
Hill, one of the famous pillars of Hercules. May it not be 
that the Reefians owe their reputation for a degree of inhu- 
manity, cupidity and faithlessness, that does not belong to 
the inland tribes, to their closer intercoursd with the Cartha- 
genians, whose great city of Tingis, fabled to have been 
surrounded by walls of brass, lay but a few miles from their 
hills. 

Among the Berbers, in the present day, the Mohammedan 
religion prevails, mixed up, however, with many old peculiar 
notions and observances, some of which unquestionably date 
their origin from the time when the whole of Northern Africa 
was nominally Christian. Nominally, we say, for there is good 
reason to believe that a large proportion of the population, 
especially in the mountains, were as thorough-going Chris- 
tian-haters in the times of St. Augustine as they are in the 
present day. A few tribes are yet strongly Pagan, and it is 
more than probable that a few otlrers still hold Christian doc- 
trine, though by this time, perhaps, it could scarcely be re- 
cognized as such, in its impure and adulterated forms. 

In general the Berbers are not good horsemen ; but some 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


99 


of the tribes have horses and riders that excel the best among 
the Moors. They are very expert marksmen, and very fond 
of their weapons, and of military games and exercises. High 
up in the mountains they frequently live in natural caverns, 
or in artificial caves dug out in the faces of the cliffs'; but in 
the valleys and on the plateaux, they have villages constructd 
of wood and stone, thatched with straw, and loopholed for 
purposes of defence. 

Immense herds of cattle and flocks of sheep afford a means 
of subsistence ; and they are also abundantly supplied with 
asses and mules. Manufactures are, of course, in no very 
flourishing condition; but they are not far behind those of 
the Moors. They can spin, weave, smelt iron, and make 
their own arms; and, if not equal to the town Moors in all 
departments of industry, are far before the Arabs or tent- 
dwelling Moors of the plains. 

Among the Berbers there live a great many Jews, whose 
condition is infinitely better than that of their brethren among 
the Moors. A relation, like that of patron and client, exists 
— each Jew has a Berber patron who is bound to protect him 
from insult and oppression, even at the expense of his*^own 
life. The Jew, in the towns, is insulted, oppresJied, robbed 
with impunity, but among the Berbers he lives in security of 
life and property, and on terms of perfect social equality. 
These Jews are looked upon as heretics by the Moorish Jews, 
who stigmatize them as Philistines. A good understanding, 
however, exists, and it is no uncommon thing for the Philis- 
tines to mingle freely with the town Jews in the pursuits of 
trade. 

Such are the Berbers of the Atlas, in our day; and such in 
general have they ever been. In the case of tribes, like the 
Beni Mozarg, brought more intimately in contact with the 
hosts of the different invaders that have swept along the 
southern shores of the Mediterranean, there has been un- 
doubtedly a higher stage of civilization than at present. The 
ferocious bigotry of Mohammedanism, and the jealous cruelty 
of an ignorant despotism have, year by year, and day by day, 
exerted an increasing energy in demoralizing and barbarizing 
the Moors; and it may well be conceived that an influence 
of a similar kind must have swept out of existence some of 
the habits, tastes and ideas of the Berbers; but, in the main, 
as they are now, so were they then. 


lOO 


THE BERBER. 


Except the change in the artificial landmarks of the coun- 
try, the greater infusion of the Arabic element into the lan- 
guage of the lowlands — the substitution of the prayers of El 
Islam for the rites of the pagan — the adoption of fire-arms in 
place of bows and slings, and the use of saddles — the old 
Numidians and Mauritanians, with Bocchus and Jugurtha, and 
Masinissa, and Syphax at their head, would now see, could 
they start up from their graves, nothing to excite surprise. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The morning was nearly spent, when Hassan, returning to 
the Kassar Faravvan, announced to the distressed Isabel the 
failure of all attempts to trace the course of the kaid. With 
a heavy heart the rais gave the order to move forward. 

‘^’Tis our only chance,” he exclaimed, ‘‘to push on to 
Mequinez, where I shall see the Sultan at once, and obtain 
his permission to pursue the kaid — which, by the head of 
the Prophet, I will do to the ends of the earth. Believe me, 
seiiorita, your sister shall yet be restored to you.” 

Isabel was too deeply in love, and had too much confidence 
in her lover’s judgment and energy not to feel the consoling 
influence of his assurances; but still her spirits could not 
rally from the shock — she felt heart-sick — a sensation of 
faintness spread through her frame; and it w’as with diffi- 
culty, notwithstanding the constant encouraging attentions 
of the rais, that she could preserve her seat in her saddle. 

With a quickened step the calvacade moved on. It was 
about noon. The road, indicated only by the footprints of 
men and camels, led directly beneath the steep side of a 
small eminence. The rais was about to order a halt for re- 
freshment at the base of the precipice, when, suddenly, the 
steps of all were arrested by a wild shriek from Isabel. Mo- 
tionless she sat for a moment, gazing upward at the figure of 
Juanita, who now attracted all eyes, as she stood upon the 
brink of the hillside. The next instant Isabel sprang from 
her mule, and before <^he rais could offer aid or interference, 
she dashed up the steep sides of the hillock — gullied and 
scarped by the rains, so that no horse could follow her^ — and 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


lOI 


threw herself, overcome by physical exhaustion and mental 
emotion, in^o her sister’s arms. 

Quick as thought, the rais whirled his horse, and gallop- 
ing a little distance to where the ascent was not so steep, 
he spurred up the slope. He was followed by some of the 
guards. 

Cover your faces, seiioritas,” he exclaimed. Quick, 
you must not be seen by these men, or before sunrise to- 
morrow all Mequinez will not be large enough to hold the 
fame of your beauty.” 

The sisters drew their haicks over their faces, but they 
still remained clasped in each other’s arms. 

Hassansent his men back to the main body with orders for 
a noontide halt, while he disposed himself to listen to Juani- 
ta’s account of her adventures. 

No men!” exclaimed the rais, when Juanita delivered the 
message of the Berber. ^^Why, I thought he had his whole 
tribe within call. But he said that he would grant us his as- 
sistance even yet?” he eagerly demanded. 

Such were his words,” replied Juanita. 

“God grant that it may not come too late. And you, 
sehorita, did he make you no assurances at parting?” 

The color rushed to Juanita’s face, but, drawing her head 
into the folds of her haick, it escaped observation. 

He said that we should meet again,” muttered Juanita. 

Did he?” exclaimed the rais, his eye brightening. “ Did 
he say that? Then we are safe. You wonder at my con- 
fidence,” he continued, turning to Isabel, “in the indefinite 
promises of a Berber chief; but if you knew what I know — 
his power, his boundless resources of mind and person, the 
facility with which he passes through all parts of the country, 
the impunity with which he mingles in the very court of the 
Sultan, the foresight with which he thwarts all plots for his 
capture, and the dexterity and certainty with which he pun- 
ishes his enemies and serves his friends — if you knew all this, 
you, too, would have confidence in him. What say you, 
Juanita? You have seen him, and can judge something of 
him. Think you that we can rely upon him ?” 

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Juanita, eagerly; “I am certain 
that he will endeavor to aid us, and I doubt not his power.” 

“But, to enable him to do so, we must give him time,” 
said Hassan. “The Moors all maintain that he is in com- 


102 


THE BERBER, 


pact with the Evil One; but I doubt whether he has any su- 
pernatural power; and, while depending ultimately on him, 
we must look to ourselves for safety in the meantime. You 
say that the kaid took the road to Mequinez ?” 

So said the Berber,” replied Juanita. 

The scoundrel has forestalled us, then, with the Emperor, 
and it will be hardly safe for you to enter the city with these 
captives. But I have a plan by which you can be secreted 
for awhile, and which will give time for the favorable events 
hanging on the bough of hope to ripen and fall.” 

Calling up Selim, the rais gave him orders to mount, and 
set out with all speed for Mequinez. Spare not the spur,” 
he exclaimed, ^^a hundred ducats, if you convey my message 
in time. Go to the house of Abdallah — you know it —and 
say to Abdallah that I must see him to-night. You will come 
with him, and direct him to the palm grove, at the foot of 
Djeblesaghir^ where we shall encamp. Away! and see that 
you bring him.” 

Selim waited for no second order; but, mounting^ started 
at full speed for the city, distant about ten miles. 

Notwithstanding the impatience of some of the orheers of 
the cavalcade to set out, in the hope of reaching Mequinez 
that afternoon, it was full two hours after the departure of 
Selim, before the rais gave the word to move on. The coun- 
try was rough and uneven, and the movements of the chained 
slaves necessarily slow, so that the sun was well advanced in 
the Western arc of his course when the party reached the 
foot of the Djeblesaghir or Little Hill. 

The rais ordered a halt, and announced his intention of 
camping for the night. The horses were picketed, tents 
pitched, guards set, and, amid hundreds of half-naked Arabs, 
who rushed from the neighboring douahs to get sight of the 
Christians’ preparations made for the principal meal of the 
day, A dozen fires blazed brightly beneath as many large 
earthen pots, in which were placed pieces of chicken or 
mutton, with sufficient water and butter for a stew. Stores 
of cooscoosoo were produced, and when cooked by the steam 
coming up through the holes of an earthen dish fitting the 
mouth of the pot, from the savory messes below, were turned 
out into bowls, and mingled with the fricasseed chicken or 
mutton. Then bowls were placed upon the ground, and 
squatting around them, the Moors, with a universal “ Bish- 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


103 

mtllah/ in the name of God!” thrust in their hands, and, 
with a few flourishes, the contents of the whole disappeared. 
For the Christian captives a scanty supply of mouldy bread 
and a few jars of rancid butter sufficed. 

After supper the sentinels rolled themselves in their haicks 
and lay motionless, but watchful, on the ground; the rest of 
the Moors disposed themselves for a talk in several groups. 
The snuff-box, with the celebrated snuff of Mequinez, was 
passed about (the Moors neither smokmg nor chewing 
tobacco), while a few produced their pipes for the kief or 
prepared seed of the hemp, and with a few whiffs of the 
powerful narcotic were floating in an dysium of voluptuous 
sensation. 

About an hour before midnight Selim entered the camp. 
Advancing to his master, who was on the watch beside the 
door of the tent allotted to the sisters, he whispered a few 
words in his ear. Hassan started to his feet and followed the 
black, who took a path leading through the palm grove over 
the brow of the hill. They had not gone far when Selim 
halted, and making a low sound with his mouth, it was 
answered by the appearance of Abdallah. 

Dispensing with the usual courteous compliments of the 
Moors, Hassan seized Abdallah at once by the haick, and, 
drawing him aside, began speaking to him rapidly in Spanish. 

You would know why I sent for you,” he demanded. 

‘‘Your brother?” queried Abdallah. “He is well, and 
strange to say, evinces no impatience at his confinement. 
My daughter tries to amuse him with her voice and her guitar, 
and truly the young man seems pleased with her music.” 

“No, not my brother, though God be thanked that the son 
of my mother is safe and well; ’tis another favor that I have 
to ask of you, but much I fear that the wild steed of desire is 
leaping the bounds of our friendship.” 

“Say not so,” answered Abdallah. “I owe you much, 
and do I not live in hopes of some day taking my daughter 
and fortune from this cursed land only through you ? You 
know the desire of my heart — ” 

“Yes, and you shall eat of it if I have to pluck it for you 
from the topmost branches of the tree of danger; but much 
1 fear that what I have to propose will exhaust the well of 
your kindness. Sending my brother to you was picking the 
blossoms of charity, but now I am going to pull at the roots. 
Listen 1 — ” . 


104 


THE BERBER, 


Dropping his metaphorical style, the rais rapidly ran over 
all the circumstances with which the reader is familiar, and 
ended by proposing that the kaid of the gates should take 
charge of the sisters, escort them into town, and secrete them 
for a while, at least, in his house. 

Abdallah listened in silence. ‘‘This is a bad business 
indeed,’^ he exclaimed, when Hassan had finished, “and 
dangerous, too. Know you knot that Hammed ben Slowek 
is all-powerful with the Sultan. He is a saint— Allah’s curses 
on the whole tribe of saintly vagabonds.” 

“A saint,” demanded Hassan, with an expression of alarm 
in his voice. “A saint ? God help us.” 

And well might the rais feel a thrill of apprehension. The 
saints of Morocco, were then, as they are now, a numerous 
body of the most ignorant, malicious, and sordid scoundrels 
that could be found in all the empire. Their reputation for 
sanctity enabling them to outrage the strongest prejudices of 
the Moors — to violate all sense of decency — and to commit 
the most outrageous crimes with impunity. Those in highest 
repute are generally descendants of some famous saint of the 
olden time, although it is possible for any one to take up 
the trade, and by a few additional prayers, to acquire the 
title and the privilege of living in idleness upon the alms 
oi the faithful. Maniacs and fools are generally saints by 
virtue of their infirmities; and their reputation and influence 
are commonly proportioned to the violence and extravagance 
of their actions, or the filthiness and impurity of their habits 
and dress. 

“ He is a santon,” replied Abdallah, “but luckily he inhe- 
rits his sanctity from no long line of ancestors, nor from any 
saint of renown. His father was the first saint of his family, 
and is well remembered as one of the vilest, most malicious 
scoundrels that ever used a reputed holiness to cover all 
manner of crimes. The Sultan is, you know, a strict Moham- 
medan ; and although he has no hesitation in violating saints’ 
houses, and even cutting their heads off, when it suits him, 
he in general affects to be very deferential to the niscals. 
This Hammen ben Slowek pretends to go every Friday to 
Mecca, from whence he frequently brings the Sultan pres- 
ents. Muley Ismael, one would think, has too much sense 
to believe in the kaid’s journeys; but, however that may be. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. I05 

he pretends that he does, and has, for some time, treated the 
impostor with strong marks of favor.’* 

“’Tis unfortunate, indeed,” exclaimed Hassan; ‘^think 
you that it will not be best to seek this dog of a santon first, 
and send him where his saintly pretensions can be better 
judged of than in this world?” 

‘ No, that would be dangerous, indeed; not only the Sul- 
tan, but the populace would be against you.” 

The worthy kaid of the gates mused for a moment. 

‘‘ Our only hope,” he continued, “is in time and the Ber- 
ber. He has promised to aid you?” 

“He sent me such a message but a few hours since,” said 
Hassan. 

“It may be in his power to assist you in a flight to the 
hills,” replied the kaid, in a meditative tone, “and that, 
perhaps will suit my purpose as well; I may need some help 
of that kind myself.” 

“ I must try and secrete these damsels, he continued, 
“ for a few days; but not in my own house, that v/ould be a 
useless risk. Ah I I have a plan; there is a vacant house ad- 
joining mine that I will secure possession of for the purpose. 
But, be quick— time presses — call these Spanish beauties; 
for beauties I know they are, or you would not take such an 
interest in their fate. I would enter the gates at early dawn 
to be in time for the Sultan’s meshourahP 

Without further w.ords, Hassan returned to the sister’s 
tent, and shortly explained his plans, and the necessity for 
expedition. In a few moments they were ready. Selim 
brought up the mules; the sisters mounted, and taking the 
bridles, Hassan and the black led the beasts to the spot, 
amid the palms, where Abdallah, mounted upon one of the 
small but active and spirited donkeys of the country, was 
awaiting them. 

Adios, seiiorita,” whispered the rais to Isabel; “go — go 
in peace, and may the blessing of Seidna Aisa, the Messiah, 
go with you. And you, seiiorita, have confidence in Ab- 
dallah; he was a friend of my boyhood; and since then I 
have served him. His manner is cold, and his words cau- 
tious; but his heart is warm, and his breast harbors no guile. 
Adios !” 

Hassan’s voice trembled; his heart was full of emotion. 
The image of his brother rose up before him; he started 


ro6 the BERBER^ 

with affright to find that image, occurring at tne moment of 
parting with the Gaditatia, gave him pain. Hassan, though 
still so young, had long schooled himself to master his emo- 
tions. Though trained in the rites of el Islam, and though 
bred a corsair, the Christian element of his character had 
never been wholly eradicated. Not that he was a Christian ; 
but he ever felt a consciousness that he was not a Moor; 
that he had something in him which his companions had not 
— something that he could not reveal, and of which he did 
not rightly know the value himself. This consciousness had 
ever kept him spiritually aloof from those by whom he was 
surrounded. The better part of his nature had walked apart 
from the evil influences of his profession ; and thus brooding 
in solitude, his soul, naturally pure and noble, had had an 
opportunity of expanding itself unhampered by the petty 
prejudices of sect or creed. The virtues of magnanimity and 
generosity had taken deep root, and flourished. 

Hassan recovered himself in a moment; resolutely he en- 
tertained the image of his brother, his twin-brother, the son 
of his mother. He thought of him as the lover, and, for 
aught he knew, the favored lover of Isabel. Sternly he re- 
pressed the tide of feeling that was prompting him to some 
passionate demonstration. lie would not even take her 
hand. He merely permitted himself to touch her garments, 
and press his own hand to his lips. 

The young man hesitated for a moment, and then he drew 
a small package from his girdle, and put it into Isabel’s 
hand. believe not much in the efficacy of talismans,” he 
whispered, but take this; it can do no harm.. Adieu! May 
the God of all the prophets watch over you.” 

The package contained a written charm, in Arabic, consist- 
ing of a verse from the Koran; such as the Moors are in the 
habit of wearing on their persons, and hanging around the 
necks of their horses, to avert ill fortune; the Ten Command- 
ments, in Hebrew, which the Jewish women of Barbary are 
in the custom of enclosing in little rolls of leather and tying 
upon their foreheads; and a silver crucifix with an image of 
the Saviour. The truly Catholic rover had charged his amu- 
let upon the principle of putting in all kinds of shot for all 
kinds of game. Isabel secured the package in her bosom, 
though could she have suspected the unconscious sacrilege 
of the rais, in thus jumbling the symbols of Judaism, Mo- 


A TALE OF. MOROCCO. 


107 


hammedanism and Christianity, she would have cast it from 
her as though it had been a gift of the Evil One. Luckily, 
she knew nothing about it ; and the peculiar religious state 
of mind of the rais troubled not her thoughts, as with 'his 
image filling her whole mind, she allowed her mule to quietly 
follow the guidance of Selim. ^ 

Pressing on more rapidly when the party had reached the 
open ground, Abdallah took a route that led around into the 
road dividing the negro-town, or the camp of Muley Ismael’s 
black troops, from the city — thus coming upon the gates as 
if from the South. But it is unnecessary to follow their steps 
in detail, inasmuch as their detour and entrance into the city 
were effected without adventure of any kind. 

Upon returning to camp, the rais threw himself upon the 
ground, but he could not sleep. The image of Isabel would 
intrude itself, notwithstanding that his whole soul revolted at 
any feeling inconsistent with what he supposed to be the 
prior rights of his new-found brother. The unfortunate circum- 
stances of his life had left him, as we have said, but little 
religion of any kind ; while high sentiments of honor and 
honesty may perhaps be supposed to be inconsistent with his 
profession. But it must be recollected that piracy in that 
day, among the Moors, especially when directed against the 
Spaniards, was considered a legitimate and honorable war- 
fare, with national enemies, and that high and pure personal 
qualities in an individual are perfectly consistent with his 
adhesion to the general average morality of his age, his coun- 
try, or his party. Were this principle better understood, and 
kept more steadily in view, political, social and religious dis- 
putes, of which this age of progress is so prolific, would be 
characterized by much more of charity for motives, and 
much less of personal abuse. 

The disagreeable reveries of the young man were put an 
end to by a stir in the camp — it was the first flush of morn 
that aroused the recumbent sentinels, and in a few minutes 
guards and captives were afoot. With the rapidity peculiar 
to low latitudes, the purple haze of the dawn brightened into 
the full light of sunrise, disclosing a large body of the Sul- 
tan’s black troops coming over the piain from the city. 

The instant the imperial soldiers caught sight of the caval- 
cade of the rais, they changed their pace, and spurred into a 
quick gallop. Their numbers amounted to about five hun- 


loS THE BERBEK, 

dred, and at their head rode the kaid of the slaves, Hammed 
ben Slowek. Upon their approach, the rais gave orders 
to his men to mount and form, and quietly he awaited the 
onset. 

‘^In the name of Sidi our Lord, whom God preserve !” 
exclaimed the kaid, in a loud tone, ‘‘ I take possession of all 
these slaves ; and you,” addressing the rais, I shall arrest 
you as a traitor — we will see who it is who dared to raise his 
hand to a saint, and the minister of the shereef.” 

If you have the command of the Sultan to take these, my 
captives, I will not resist,” said Hassan, in a calm tone; “but 
for myself, I trust not my person in your hands. I shall pre- 
sent myself to the shereef — but I shall pick my own path, 
and choose my own company.” 

Turning to his men, he ordered them to close up, and fol- 
low him. “We are no longer needed here,” he exclaimed, 

and we may as well move on to the city.” 

Rage and hate distorted the ugly countenance of the kaid, 
as he watched the depaiting rais. He was about to make a 
demonstration of his feelings by attempting to arrest him, but 
prudence finally prevailed. The horsemen of the rais closed 
up their lines with too determined an air, at the word of 
their leader, to have rendered it a safe matter, even with his 
greatly superior force. Besides, the kaid had no special war- 
rant for arresting the rover, and he knew that unless he could 
put him at once out of the way, so that his complaints could 
never reach the Sultan, the capricious tyrant might some day 
hold him strictly to account. . 

The kaid turned to examine the captives. He knew not 
of Juanita's return, and he was prepared, therefore, to find 
her gone — a glance convinced him that Isabel was also 
absent. He rode to the sisters’ tent — it was empty. Dash- 
ing his spurs into his horse, he galloped after the rais. His 
whole frame shook, and his voice trembled with passion. 
“Hold! Spawn of a Christian! Son of a burnt grand- 
father!” he shouted, “Answer me. Where are the Kaffir 
women ?” 

“ Dog!” replied Hassan, as he wheeled his horse alongside 
the kaid, and shook his clenched fist in his face; “dog — 
accursed liar and thief! How dare you ask that question! 
Think you I know not the robber who carried off rny captive 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. I09 

at Kassar Farawan ? Go ! begone, or I shall be tempted to 
stain my sword with your base blood!’* 

The kaid galloped back to his troops, and dividing them 
into two bodies, the larger one to guard the prisoners, and 
the smaller one to accompany himself, he set out at full speed 
across the open plain, for the city. 

‘•We must quicken our pace, men,” said the rais, ‘‘’Tis 
the day for the Sultan’s meshourah. He will administer jus- 
tice in full court, and our heads will not be safe if we let this 
lying scoundrel precede us ; so, forward, men — our horses 
are fresh, and honesty has wings, while guilt rides a laggard — 
we must be before him, for what says the sage, ‘one lie in the 
Sultan’s head will keep out twenty truths.’ ’’ 

With a loud cheer, the long rowels and sharp corners of the 
stirrup irons were industriously scraped against the sides of 
the straining barbs, and both parties scoured the plain in 
nearly parallel courses, at a rate which soon brought them — 
the party of the rais, a little in advance — to the gates of 
the city. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“ The proper study of mankind is man,” is an oft-quoted 
saying of the poet. If we might aspire to the honor of pro- 
creating a similar adage, of equal profundity and of nearly 
equal originality and novelty, we should say that the most 
difficult study of mankind is woman. It is barely possible, 
however, that the novelty and originality of the observation 
may be disputed, but we defy any one to question its truth. 
In fact, for most men, the nature of woman is a sealed book, 
and must necessarily ever remain so. They love them and 
hate them, admire them and contemn them, flatter them and 
abuse them, do anything and everything, but understand 
them. They have not that femininity of sentiment superadded 
to their masculine qualities, thehappy giftof a few lofty poetic 
souls, that can place them en rapport with the inner nature of 
women. They cannot make any allowance, or, at least, can- 
not do so instinctively and through the intuitions of sensibi- 
lity, for the essential peculiarities of soul manifesting itself 


no 


THE BERBER, 


through an organization which morally, mentally, and physi- 
cally, is so entirely unlike their own. Even the boasted knowl- 
edge of the most experienced man of the world is but a knowl- 
edge of results. Give him the circumstances of situation 
and character, and he can guess pretty shrewdly what a 
woman will do, but he knows not how she does it, or what 
are the direct processes of female intellect and feeling. As 
,in hunting the deer — the clever sportsman knows where the 
game will come out, and stations himsels for a shot; but knows 
not the precise path the animal will choose, or the number of 
turns and deviations he will make — still less the deeper senti- 
ments, emotions, feelings— the inner life of the deer. ’Tis 
the poet, not the naturalist or the sportsman, who can gather 
the big round tears as they course one another down his 
innocent nose in piteous chase.” 

But enough has been said to indicate the diffidence with 
which are ventured upon a division and classification of 
female character suggested by a glance at the three principal 
personages of our tale. First is the woman in whom the will 
is predominant over the other qualities of mind. Between 
this character and most men, there is a principle of repulsion 
which, despite the attraction of other qualities, tends to keep 
them apart The interval may be small, but still it is an in- 
terval — and unless, as in some rare cases, the interval is 
passed, and the two become one, swallowed up in each other, 
as it were, like two coalescing globules of mercury, the dust 
of self settles in it, and the repulsion is increased. An un- 
lucky endowment is this energy and force of character — this 
powerful volition — this superiority not only to her sex, but to 
the common herd of men. Rarely does the heart of such a 
woman find its mate or its master. But when it does so hap- 
pen — when passion is aroused, reason and fancy taken captive, 
and the strong will mastered by a still stronger and more ir- 
resistible energy of character — then is developed a capacity 
for a love which poets have painted, but which few women 
know — for a love ardent and glowing, and animating as the 
Summer’s sun, but subject to no revolutions, or changes, or 
spots that can dim its lustre. 

The second class of women is of those in whom the affec- 
tions are the strongest. They may have more or less of wit, 
will and intellect, but feeling and affection are supreme. And 
in proportion as the peculiar combination of moral qualities 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


Ill 


characterizing the female predominates, does the representa- 
tive of this class differ from the common type of man; and 
so in proportion does she melt into his soul, softening the 
harder and baser metal with her pure gold, into a valuable 
and harmonious alloy. 

The third class is of those in which the imagination is the 
mistress. Everything is modified and controlled by the 
poetic faculty. Nothing can be more charming than the 
brilliant tinge that this quality throws over the whole charac- 
ter; but it requires an even balance of the other faculties to 
sustain the glare. With strong salient points and correspond- 
ing depressions, the effect is bad, even in men, much more 
so in women, especially in their relations to men. Like sun- 
rise on Alps or Andes, the brighter the high peaks glow, the 
deeper are the shadows in the valleys. In love a predomi- 
nant imagination has its advantages and its disadvantages. 
A woman of this elass requires heroes — unluckily there are no 
heroes — but fortunately she is capable of making them for 
herself. The difficulty is, however, that when made they 
will not last, unless as in the case of our Moorish maiden 
Xaripha, whom we left commencing the exercise of her art 
upon Edward Carlyle, the original material is of sufficient 
quality and strength. 

But to escape from this presumptuous, and, if the reader 
will believe it, wholly involuntary adventuring upon a subject 
which admits of as many views as there can be found ob- 
servers, let us return, for a moment, while the raisand kaid 
are waiting in the great court of the palace for the ap- 
pearance of the Sultan, to the house of Abdallah, where, it 
will be recollected, we left Xaripha singing a Moorish ballad 
to Edward Carlyle. 

But five short weeks had elapsed, and yet the Moorish 
maiden and the young Englishman had lived ages of ordi- 
nary life; that is, if the progress of time is estimated, as well 
it may be, by the development of sentiment, and the expan- 
sion of the heart. To them, however, the actual time seemed 
short, and the five weeks were but as five days. 

The love of Edward for Xaripha was fierce, passionate and 
sensuous. His senses were ravished, carried away, maddened 
by the sentiment of physical and sexual beauty. Not that he 
was insensible to her graces of mind, or to her moral charms; 
but his whole soul glowed and trembled in the magnetic light 


112 


THE BERBER, 


that seemed to him to stream from every point of her rounded 
form, from every flash of her lustrous eye, from every dimple 
and curve of her features. His was the love of the old Greek, 
who lived in friendly, not scientific or sentimental relations 
with the material world; who adored nature instead of ana- 
lyzing her; who deified the elemental forces, and who 
gloried in the animal while conceding a wide domain to the 
spiritual, and a still wider domain to the intellectual. 

And Xaripha returned this love with an almost equally 
passionate eagerness; but in her it was modified in its mani- 
festations by natural modesty and the influence of the imagi- 
nation. The form and figure of the young man were suffi- 
cient for her sense of manly beauty ; but not content With that, 
she at once invested him, mentally and morally, with all the 
attributes of the heroic. While he groveled, the veriest slave 
of her charms, at her feet, she lifted him so high, that she 
could barely perceive the chains by which he was bound. 
When a woman elevates her-lover thus high, it needs but the 
slightest spaik of suspicion to kindle a flame of jealousy large 
enough to fill up the interval between his exaltation and her 
own self-abasement. 

The progress of the affair was silently w^atched by Abdallah, 
he offered no cbjectica to the lovers being continually to- 
gether. His desire to leave the country and take up his resi- 
dence in some Christian land, had gathered additional force 
since his appointment to the office of kaid of the gates, and 
he knew that in case they could compasstheir escape, a young 
and efficient protector for his beloved daughter would be the 
thing the most to be desired. The duties of the kaid re- 
quired his presence the greater part of the day at the palace, 
thus leaving the lovers pretty much to themselves, cr at most 
disturbed only by the passing to and fro, in their househo'd 
avocations, of two or three female slaves, who, under the 
orders of Fatima Laboo, composed the kaid’s household. 
The caution of the father, however, was not asleep. Although 
none of the prejudices of his countrymen, in relation to the 
intercourse of the sexes, clung to him, yet, as a man of the 
world, he thought it most prudent to keep a watchful eye 
upon the impassioned lovers, and Fatima was charged with 
their supervision during his absences. 

You must take great care, Fatima,” said the kaid, ^‘that 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


II3 

none of the women chatter to our neighbor’s slaves about the 
presence of this young man here — if they do, I am ruined.” 

“ Yahl sidi; if I catch ’em, I’il cut their tongues out,” re- 
plied Fatima; ‘‘ they know me; they won’t do it. Don’t be 
a'raid, sidi; nobody comes in or goes out that door but you 
and me.” 

‘‘ No, but they will talk over the battlements.” 

■ ‘‘ Yah! yahl I like to see them do it. I tell ’em I make 

grand Obi. Yah! yah! they too ’fraid to talk.” 

• “Well, Fatima, I leave it all to you,” said Abdallah, in a 
confidential tone; but there ^3 one thing more; you love 
Xaripha?” 

“Yah! tear my heart right out, you see Leila ’Ripha just 
in the middle of it.” 

“ I doubt it not; and, because you love he^ I wish you to 
keep your eye cn her and this young man. Don’t appear to 
watch them; but don’t leave them too long out of your sight. 
Do you understand ?” 

“Yah! yah!” exclaimed Fatima; “I understand; no use 
to tell me; I watch ’em all the time; I stand right behind 
him when he take Delia Xaripha’s hand, and 1 thought he was 
going to bite it. If he had, yah! I had. the big cleaver in 
my hand, and I’d chopped his head right off.” 

“ Well, you need not go so far as that. If there are any 
heads to be chopped off, leave that to me; but keep watch 
of them.” 

“Yah! yah! I see ’em,’’ exclaimed Fatima, as she secured 
the street door after her master; “ and I hear ’em, too — yah! 
how Leila Xaripha make him talk, and he a dumb man — - 
I yah! yah!” 

Unluckily, the assurances cf Fatima, as to her power of 
enforcing secresy in relation to the presence of the young 
man, were badly borne out by facts. Suspicion had been 
excited, and on the day when Selim arrived with his message 
from the rais, the kaid had been informed of the rumor that 
some mysterious person was concealed in his house. He 
knew that his enemies, or those who were envious of his 
cfiicial elevation, and of his influence with the Sultan, would 
try t) turn the rumor to his injury, and his fears were 
excited for the safely of one whom he had promised to pro- 
tect, and wdiom he had come to regard. 

“ It w'ill not do,” he thought, “for him to remain any 


114 


THE BERBER, 


longer where he is; now that suspicion is excited, there is no 
knowing what turn the affair may take.” 

The worthy kaid was for some time in great perplexity as 
to the best course to pursue. At first he thought of dispatching 
Edward into the country, but to this there were many objec- 
tione; an insuperable one being the fact that the young 
Englishman had not learned a word of the language. Xaripha 
speaking both Spanish and Italian fluently, and either of those 
languages being fully competent for the purposes of love- 
making, the ilecessi ty for the more guttural and copious Arabic 
had not been felt. At last h9 decided upon trying to secrete 
him in the viillah^ among the Jews. Once within the walls 
of the millah, or Jewish quarter, which, in Mequinez, is sit- 
uated in the centre of the city, and secreted in the house of 
some Rabbin, or person of distinction, he would probably 
be safe, as no Moors are allowed to penetrate the enclosure, 
except upon the special order of the higher authorities of the 
court. But upon the appearance of Selim, the kaid con- 
cluded to defer saying anything about his plans until the 
rais had arrived, and thus for a few hours longer the lovers 
were left in happy ignorance of their approaching separation. 

It was at an early hour that the kaid, with his companions, 
reached the walls of the city. The gates were closed, but 
upon Abdallah’s requisition, as chief kaid of the gates, they 
were flung open at once. 

There was light enough to show a group of Christian 
slaves, who were taking their scanty m^al of black barley 
bread, at an angle of the narrow streets, preparatory to com- 
mencing work upon , one of the numerous buildings which 
Muley Ismael was forever erecting and pulling down. Their 
guards had either wandered away, or were quietly rolled up 
in their haicks, on some dry spot of ground, asleep, leaving 
their miserable charges to talk, laugh, curse, and squabble in 
all languages over their coarse and scanty meal. 

The sisters heard, close by their side, a familiar voice utter- 
ing some ribaldry in Spanish, and turning, their eyes fell up- 
on the tall, gaunt figure of Don .Diego de Orsolo. Isabel 
started with pleasure; for a moment she forgot all the perse- 
cutions to which she had been subjected; all her detestation 
of the don; she thought of him only as a kinsman and a 
countryman, and her heart leaped at once to her mouth. 

Orsolo, cousin Orsolo,’’ she cried, reining up her mule. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. I15 

Madre de dies / what voice is that I who are you?’’ and 
the don advanced to her side. 

‘‘ Come on, sehorita,” whispered Abdallah, “ ’tis sure de- 
struction to parley with these slaves.” 

‘‘One moment I” exclaimed Isabel, “’tis my cousin;” and 
bending in her saddle, she spoke in a low tone to the won- 
dering don. Several questions and replies were rapidly inter- 
changed between them — sufficient to apprise him of the 
principal features of their capture and situation — when, yield- 
ing to another stern admonition from Abdallah, and an 
impatient gesture from Selim, she bade him adieu. 

“What madness, sister!” exclaimed Juanita, leaning back 
in her saddle— the narrow street not permitting two to ride 
abreast. 

“But he is our cousin.” 

“True, and he tried to force you to be his wife — his 
cousinship makes him none the less vile, and renders it none 
the less dangerous to intrust him with our secret. Heaven 
grant that no evil come of your readiness to acknowledge an 
infamous traitor. 

The young girl spoke in a tone of reproof that betokened 
her rapidly developing superiority, in force of character, over 
the older, but more simple and purely feminine nature of her 
sister. Isabel felt a conviction of her imprudence, and made 
no reply. 

The streets were beginning to be alive with people, but, 
without attracting attention, the travelers passed on until 
they stood before the door of Abdallah’s dwelling. Here 
they paused for a moment, until the kaid we^it in and re- 
turned with a key, with which he opened the door leading to 
an adjoining house. 

The narrow street was raised in front of the door by the 
accumulated filth of years, so that it was necessary to step 
down into the doorway; but once inside, the small open 
court seemed cheerful, and the rooms, though destitute 
of furniture, as clean and comfortable as Spanish ladies 
could desire . 


ii6 


THE BERBER* 


CHAPTER XV. 

The sun was about three hours above the horizon when 
the great court and garden in the centre of the harem began 
to fill with the attendants, officers, and suitors at the Sultan’s 
meshourah^ or general audience of justice, which it was the 
custom of the indefatigable Muley Ismael to hold twice a 
week. There were detachments of black troops encircling 
the vast enclosure: there were groups of Moors of every de- 
gree, Christian slaves, renegadoes, and Jews, gangs of exe- 
cutioners, and a large band of impish-looking boys, who 
were kept by the Sultan in training for guards and ministers 
of his capricious will. There were kaids and governors of 
Fez, Tetuan, and Rabat, and bashaws from Tafilet, Tlem- 
cen and Soos; and, waiting in an outer court for the Sultan’s 
appearance, were an English Ambassador and suite, under 
charge of one of the Sultan’s sons and an Irish renegado 
named Kerr, who, for several years, lived in high favor at the 
Maroquien court. 

The high latticed gallery, that we have noticed as running 
upon arches across the garden, was filled with several hun- 
dred women of all ages, colors and nations, but mostly native 
born, or black from Soudan. 

The clash and clang of a hundred Moorish instruments 
broke upon the hushed air, and a wide pair of arched folding- 
doors being thrown open, the Sultan appeared. To the eyes 
of the persons composing the English embassy the first pre- 
sentiment of the Sultan was exceedingly grotesque. He was 
seated in an old-fashioned and somewhat dilapidated English 
gig, gaudily painted, which was moved by two stalwart ne- 
groes supporting the shafts, and as many more pushing be- 
hind. This gig had been, most probably, a portion of the 
numerous, and frequently very costly presents, that even 
down to the present day it has l)ecn the custom of Eir'opean 
governments to make to the Maroquien couit. The f fiding 
top was thrown back; but, on either side, and a little in the 
rear, ran two negroes, supporting, by means of long poles, a 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


parasol or canopy of red silk» With his feet drawn up under 
him upon the wide seat, sat the energetic old despot, while, 
in front of him, and holding on by the dash*board, stood a 
little boy scarcely three years of age. This boy was the 
youngest son of the Sultan, the child of his old age. A wide 
interval of ten years separated him from any of his brothers, 
of whom the number was several hundred, and the whole 
affection of his father was centred in him. 

The elder sons of Muley Ismael had given him a good 
deal of trouble. They were frequently in rebellion against 
him; driven into it by his jealousy and the intrigues'of Laila 
Ajakah, the favorite queen, who had acquired an ascend- 
ancy over the mind of the suspicious despot, and who was 
resolved to secure the throne for her own son, by goading 
the Sultan on To the destruction of the elder children of his 
other wives. By this means his feelings had become, in the 
highest degree, exasperated. He hated and dreaded his 
children, and on several occasions punished their supposed 
offences with the most rigorous cruelty. 

In the minds of the Mequinezians, the memory was still 
fresh of the horror that pervaded all hearts as the Sultan 
marched through the gates of the city to meet his son Moham- 
med, who had been appointed governor of Tarudant, and who 
having reason to fear that his life was in danger, had resisted 
all efforts to bring him to court, but who had finally been 
captured by a superior force, and was coming, a prisoner, in 
chains. Ji large gang of slaves accompanied the imperial 
cortege, bearing kettles of tar and faggots of wood. Moham- 
med threw himself at his father’s feet, and besought h\s 
mercy, but the inexorable despot ordered both feet to be 
stricken off, and the bleeding stumps to be dipped into 
a kettle of melted tar. Mohammed, who had qualities of 
person and mind that rendered him a great favorite with the 
people, indignantly refused life upon such terms, and tearing 
the bandages from his wounds, in a few hours expired. 

But jealousy of his elder children served to turn with addi- 
tional force the whole current of paternal affection upon his 
youngest. The old man had nothing to fear from him, he 
could therefore afford to love him — he did more, he doated 
upon him with his whole soul. 

As the lumbering gig, with its royal occupant, wheeled 


THE BERBER, 


IlS 

into the garden, a shout went up from a thousand voices 
that drowned the rude clangor of the band. 

‘‘God preserve Sidi! Long life to our lord!” shouted the 
multitude, bowing down and kissing the earth, and striking 
their heads upon the ground. Several of the principal cour- 
tiers ran, creeping, up to the gig, and touching the shafts or 
wheels, carried their hands to their lips; a few, more bold, 
thrust their hands in and touched the Emperor’s garments. 

The first business was the reception of the English am- 
bassador. The ceremony occupied but a few minutes. The 
ambassador, at the head of his suite, presented himself in 
front of the gig, and making a short and dignified speech, in 
which he stated the object of his coming — the freedom of 
English slaves who had been captured in contravention of 
existing treaties and the furtherance of commercial commu- 
nications — ended by offering a letter of compliment from 
his master, William III. The letter was enveloped in a roll 
of silk, and, at a sign from the Sultan, was received by one 
of the eunuchs of the harem. 

The Sultan, who was habited, as we have before seen him, 
in a plain white haick and an immense turban, replied in a 
very bland tone that “ the English were a great and a good 
people; that he had always liked the English better than any 
other people, and that he had always favored them. That 
he wished them to come and make trade in his ports; and 
that everything that the King of England wished, in relation 
to slaves or to commerce, should be attended to at once by 
his ministers.” 

Slaves bearing a portion of the presents, consisting of 
broadcloths, cutlery, porcelain, glassware, candles, and other 
articles of English manufacture, advanced with their bur- 
dens, and with a careless glance from the Sultan, were 
ordered off to one of the numerous kobabs, or storehouses, 
contained in the palace. The Sultan gave orders that a horse 
should be presented to the ambassador, and that the Christ- 
ians should be allowed to visit the principal courts and apart- 
ments of the palace. The happy envoy, with his suite, 
bowed his adieu, and retired, congratulating himself upon 
the probabilities of a successful termination to his mission, 
and little dreaming of the delays, the extortions, the false- 
hoods, the miserable intrigues that would try his patience for 
weeks and months, and perhaps defeat the censummation of 
the Sultan’s premises ent'rely. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. II9 

Several bashaws, from the distant provinces of Tafiles and 
Soos, now presented themselves in succession, and after a 
few questions from the Sultan, were referred to the Prime 
Minister, Iben Soului, a withered old man who sat upon 
the ground, a little apart — pen and inkhorn in hand, and 
with the archives of his office rolled in a silk handkerchief 
by his side. 

Upon a sign from the Sultan, two Jews advanced, crouch- 
ing and creeping along the ground in the most humble and 
deprecating attitude. They were the wealthiest and most 
influential of their tribe in Morocco, but for a long time 
they had been deadly enemies, and at last one of them, 
named Ben Hattar, had carried his animosity so far as to 
offer to purchase his enemy from the Sultan for a large sum. 
It was no uncommon thing in Morocco, in the days of our 
story, for the Sultan, instead of squeezing ” a man sus- 
pected of wealth, himself, to sell him out to some enterpris- 
ing speculator, who thus acquired the right of tormenting his 
captive until he disclosed his hoards. The bought man ’’ 
was beaten, burned with hot irons, and hung up by the feet, 
until he disgorged enough to pay the price that his buyer had 
given, and a fair profit on the investment. The reader will 
be disposed to admit that if the spirit of speculation has, in 
the present day, attained a greater degree of refinement in its 
modes of operations, it does not surpass the old Maroquien 
methods in directness and boldness. 

In the case of Ben Hattar, the Sultan at once accepted the 
ofter, and the money was paid. But, sending for Benshe- 
mole, he informed him of the bargain that had been made. 

“ I will give twice the sum for him,” cried Benshemoie. 

‘‘ Send it to the treasurer, and appear at the meshourah 
to-morrow,” replied the Sultan ; and in obedience to this 
order the two rivals and enemies were now before him. 

The eyes of Muley Ismael twinkled wifih an expression of 
malicious fun, and for a fpw minutes he looked at the crouch- 
ing Jews without speaking. 

Breaking silence, he, in a very good-humored tone, re- 
proached them for their mutual folly; thanked them ironic- 
ally for letting him know how much each thought the other 
worth ; told them that he should keep the sums they had 
offered, but that he could not think of committing the injus- 
tice of allowing Ben Hattar to be rated at a less value than 


120 


THE BERBER, 


Benshemole, and that the former must at once double the 
sum he had already paid. 

And now, most worthy children of the holy Prophet 
Abraham,” continued the Sultan, embrace each other, and 
be friends ! ’ 

Struck with the exceeding folly of their enmity, the rivals 
obeyed the order and embraced, thus commencing a friend- 
ship which was soon cemented by the marriage of Benshemole 
to the daughter of Ben Hattar. The Sultan threw himself 
back in his gig, and fairly grinned with delight, upon which a 
low murmur of applause ran round the court. 

A burly, truculent-looking Moor taking advantage of the 
Sultan’s good humor, stepped out from the crowd, and placing 
his hand upon his heart, advanced towards the gig. God 
preserve our lord!” he exclaimed. “Long life to the just 
sidi 1 Health to the merciful sidi ! Happiness to the wise 
sidi 1 Who can speak of the justice of our lord ? It fills the 
h&art, but it seals the lips. The justice of Allah is the justice 
of sidi !” 

A scowl settled upon the face of the Sultan ; and leaning 
forward, he addressed the presumptuous sycophant in a sub- 
dued tone, that to the old courtiers forboded a spring of the 
tiger. 

And how know you aught of the justice of the Sultan?” 
he demanded. 

‘Ms it not famed,” replied the Moor, “from Tangier to 
Timbuctoo? Is not the world filled with it ? Is not crime 
extirpated from the country ? And is not robbery unknown ? 
Could not a woman ride from one end of the land to the other, 
with a purse of gold in her lap, and no one dare to molest her ? 
’Twasbut three days since that I was coming from Tituan; a 
bag of walnuts lay by the roadside, but no traveler dared 
disturb it.” 

“ How did you know that it was a. bag of walnuts?” in- 
terposed the Sultan. 

“ I dismounted from my horse, a!nd touched it with my 
foot,” replied the Moor. 

“Which foot?” demanded the Sultan, in a tone that sent 
a shudder through the crowd, and made even the rash and 
presumptuous flatterer tremble. 

The Moor saw, when too late, that he had ventured within 
the tiger’s clutch. His voice faltered, and in silence he 
pointed to his left foot. _ — - 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


I2I 


Strike off the foot that has dared to touch a oag of wal- 
nuts left without an owner by a road-side in my empire !” 
roared the Sultan ; and hardly had the command left his 
mouth, when the Moor was seized by the executioners, his leg 
thrown over a block of wood, and stricken off with a single blow. 
A plaster of hot pitch stopped the hemorrhage ; and with a feel- 
ing of resignation to the orderings of Providence, common to 
the Moors, but which the most devout Christian seldom attains, 
the unlucky courtier left the garden, to be in a few days called 
again to court, received into favor, and sent as bashaw, in all 
honor, to a distant province.*^ 

At this moment some commotion was excited at the great 
gate of the garden ; and the next instant, the rover, Hassan 
Herach, and Hammed ben Slowek, kaid of the slaves, rushed 
in, forcing their way through the crowd into the clear space 
in front of the Sultan. Etiquette required them to pause at 
a considerable distance, and await the bidding of the Em- 
peror ; but in their hurry and excitement they pressed up 
considerably within the prescribed limits. The gloomy scowl 
that hung upon the visage of Muley Ismael grew still deeper 
as he scanned for a moment the two figures before him. 

At length he signed for the kaid to advance. The rais 
took a step forward also ; but the royal scowl grew darker, 
and he saw that it would be death to persist. Inwardly chafing 
with rage and vexation, Hassan was compelled to draw him- 
self up calmly, and, folding his hands upon his breast, await 
an opportunity to speak. 

Destiny, however, seemed to threaten that no opportunity 
should be afforded him ; for as Hammed told his story the 
brow of the Sultan grew more corrugated, and his lips more 
compressed. The kaid spoke in a low tone, and with a rapidity 
and energy that showed him resolved to improve to the utmost 
the advantage of being first in the field. A feeling of lofty 
and indignant scorn swelled the young man’s heart almost to 
bursting, as he watched the impression which the story of the 
wily kaid was making upon the mind of the monarch. He 
could not hear what his antagonist was saying; but he 
marked its effect, and for an instant he was about to dart 
forward, denounce the kaid as a liar, and fell him to the earth. 


* It is perhaps necessary to repeat the assurance, that in relation to the incidents in 
which Muley Ismael is concerned, no invention on the part of the author has been 
called for, or indulged in, 


122 


THE BERBER, 


^‘But prudence,” he muttered to himself, ^‘for her sake!” 
And clenching his teeth, he restrained the impulse. 

But darker grew the royal scowl, until, raising his hand for 
the kaid to cease, the Sultan pointed to the young rais, and 
exclaimed, ‘‘Bind him ! beat the life out of him 1 A thousand 
blows of the bastinado !” 

Hassan hesitated no longer. As the negro executioners 
advanced upon him, he darted to the side of the gig, ex- 
claiming in a loud voice, “Justice, sidi ! In the name of 
Allah, justice I I demand a hearing I” 

The Sultan remained immovable ; and the negroes rushing 
upon Hassan, began to drag him away, when suddenly ex- 
erting the whole force of his powerful frame, he tore himself 
from their grasp and sprang back to the Sultan. 

“Justice, sidi !” he cried; “ if not in the name of Allah, 
in the name of this child.” And the rais seized hold of the 
garments of the young prince, who was leaning over the front 
of the gig. 

The guards paused — the child turned, feeling the pull on 
his clothes, when seeing Hassan’s hand extended toward the 
Sultan, with a shout of pleasure he sprang into his arms. 
Hassan pressed the boy to his breast, and kissed him repeat- 
edly on his brow and cheeks. 

The father half raised himself from his seat, and uttered a 
slight cry of terror — the next moment he calmly resumed his 
position, and signed to the executioners to retire. 

“Put the child back,” he exclaimed; “were you the 
greatest traitor, he has saved your life.” 

Hassan obeyed the order, but the boy clung to his hand, 
and would not let him withdraw it. 

“ Speak!” said the Sultan; “what have you to say to the 
charges of our servant, the kaid? Who are you?” 

“ I am Hassan Herach ?” 

“What! he whom men call the rais el rais — the captain 
of the captains — the broom of the seas ?” exclaimed the Sul- 
tan. 

“ The same; and well may I boast of the number of your 
enemies that I have swept from the ocean.” 

“ Ha !” cried the Sultan, turning with a scowling brow to 
the kaid on the other side of the gig, “I knew not this — 
but go on — we were too hasty — we will hear your whole 
story,”- 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


123 


may be supposed that Hassan did not fail to improve 
tne permission. Rapidly and clearly he enumerated his great 
services — described his recent capture — explained the 
grounds of his quarrel with the kaid, and apologized for 
any apparent disrespect to the letter of the imperial order. 

^ The Sultan listened with attention, and when the kaid inter- 
posed some objection, sternly ordered him to withdraw from 
the court. The crestfallen kaid was too wise to risk another 
command, and with it an explosion of imperial wrath, and 
gladly slunk away to await a more propitious moment for his 
intrigues. 

Your services have been great, my son,” said the Sultan, 
‘‘ and for your offence in refusing to deliver your captives, 
except into our own hands, we pardon you. But you raised 
your hand against a saint, and for that you must be punished. 
I shall fine you a hundred metcals — but, inasmuch as the kaid, 
though a saint, is a great liar, you need not pay him — you 
may send the money to my treasurer.” 

“Permit me,’' said the rais, “to make my savior here a 
treasurer for this purpose;” and drawing a purse from hi:; 
girdle, containing four or five times the amount of the fine, 
he placed it in the lap of the young prince. 

The Sultan extended his hand, and as the rais was about to 
kiss the back of it, Muley Ismael turned it so that his lips 
might touch the palm — a mark of the greatest condescension 
and favor. 

The Sultan waved his hand — the gig Avas put in motion — 
the band struck up — a few muskets were fired by the guards 
— shouts of “ Long life to Sidi !” rent the air — and the crowd 
began to pour out of the great gates into the exterior courts. 
The meshourah was at an end. 

As the Emperor disappeared through the arches of an inner 
court, he took off his haick and sent it by an officer of distinc- 
tion to the rais. The present was esteemed by the crowd as 
a most striking mark of favor, and congratulations were 
showered upon the young man from all sides. Hassan, how- 
ever, was not to be deceived; he knew what the favor of 
Muley Ismael was worth, especially with an enemy like the 
kaid working against him, and he felt more elated at the 
temporary defeat of the designs of his enemy, in relation 
to the sisters, than at any probability of future influence at 
court. 




124 the BERBER, i 

The courtiers, too, who congratulated him, knew what the ! 
favor of the jealous and capricious tyrant was worth, and by i 

what a precarious tenure office, property, and even life itself, | 

were held by his favorites; but there were not wanting some i 
among them who were almost bursting with envy when they 
saw the empty honor of the imperial haick offered to the 
rais. Verily, it is not alone in Christian countries that the 
love of place, power and position — the groveling ambition j 

of unearned and undeserved political and social distinc- j 

tion — the spirit of lying, flattering, sycophantic flunkeyism, 
is stronger than self-respect, pride of character, honesty, | 
charity, or even the fear of death. It is almost as bad among j 
the Moors. | 


CHAPTER XVI. 


‘‘Praise be to Allah 1” exclaimed Abdallah, Orawing the 
rais into his private room in one of the kobahs. 

“ That was a lucky thought of yours, that of the child — 
and bravely was it done; a moment’s faltering would have 
cost you your life! But what now ? — you have unhorsed the 
kaid for a time, but he is not dead yet — and recollect you not 
the words of the poet: ‘ the favor of princes is like the thistle 
down — ’tis blown about by the winds, and where it lighteth 
it produceth thorns ?’ ’ ' 

‘‘ True, O most excellent friend !” exclaimed the rais, “ but 
I mean to await not the change of the wind, or the germana- 
ting of the weed, ‘ The wild horse of occasion must be seized 
by the mane,’ says the poet, ‘ and ridden without bit or bridle. 
He who waits to tighten the saddle-girths of opportunity loses 
the race.' ” 

“ But what are your plans ?” demanded Abdallah. 

“ To dispatch the two Spaniards and my brother as soon 
as possible to the Kassar of the Berber Amekran, Casbin 
Subah, where they can await in safety the turn of events.” 

“’Twill be impossible to do that for several days,” replied 
Abdallah; “ you must communicate with the Berber chief, 
and we must devise some plan for getting the Gaditanas out 
of the city without being observed. No one, I think, knows 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


125 


where they are at present; if you should undertake to start 
with them at once, you would most assuredly inform the 
whole city.” 

The rais mused fey: a moment-*-^ ^ What is your advice ?” 
he demanded, 

“My advice is,” replied Abdallah, “ that you hire some 
vacant house and move into it, and there keep your brother 
closely concealed. It is essential that he leave my house, for 
already there is much talk among the neighbors. As to the 
Spanish maidens, you can leave them for a few^days in per- 
fect safety, w’here they are. I will see that they are supplied 
with food, and that no one intrudes on their privacy. To 
avoid suspicion, you must not be seen entering their house 
too often.” 

Acting upon this advice, the rais, with his faithful Selim, 
followed by the sailors of the galley, made his way through 
the crowd that thronged around to catch a sight of the famous 
rover. As soon as it was known that he wanted a house, a 
hundred were offered to him, and from among them he 
selected the rniallest — a little building twenty feet square, and 
one story in height — because it afforded him an excuse for 
sending his men to lodge at a f ondac, or inn, and because it was 
situated but three or four squares from the house that con- 
tained his captives. 

A Moorish house of the common class requires but little 
time or expense in fitting up and furnishing. A thick rug 
or carpet; a few leather cushions stuffed with wool; a table 
standing about a foot high from the floor; a portable furnace 
for charcoa- ; a few cooking utensils, and in half-an-hour the 
house was complete. 

The rest of the day the rais occupied himself in looking 
after the comfort, and alleviating, as far as possible, the misery 
of his male captives, who arrived, fatigued and hungry, in 
charge of the lieutenant kaid of the slaves, d'he Moorswere 
for putting them at once to woik upon the palace walls, but 
the lais insis ed that they should have at least one day to 
lecruit their strength. 

At night Edward left the house of Abdallah, and, drawing 
his haick closely around his face, followed Selim to the house 
of the rais. The brothers met again, with many expressions 
of true, heartfelt delight. But notwithstanding the strong 
fraternal affection that had rapidly developed itself, and the 


126 


THE BERBER, 


many subjects of interest between them, the change from the 
spacious courts and lofty rooms of the house of the kaid to 
the dark and straitened apartments of his new residence 
struck Edward as extremely unpleasant.* Perhaps had Xari- 
pha accompanied him, the difference would not have been so 
perceptible, or, it may be, would have entirely disappeared — 
such power has the electro-magnetism of love to overlay with 
leaves of fine gold the commonest and meanest things of life. 

And Xaripha— she, too, felt as if the light of 4:he sun had 
grown dim, as if nature had become suddenly overcast; the 
shadow that enveloped her soul was projected upon all crea- 
tion, and she no longer paced the terrace with an elastic step, 
her imagination glowing with the traditionary recollections 
of Andalusia. She no longer strained her eyes in the direc- 
tion of the hills of Grenada. Her embroidery was thrown 
aside; her guitar was jieglected, and her sole occupation was 
to sit and sigh and count the moments to the time when she 
might hope for a promised visit from her lover. Let not the 
maidens of Christian lands, who have a thousand resources in 
books, in dress, and in society, think contemptuously of the 
lovely, loving, and lonely Maroquien. 

Every motion of Xaripha was watched by her nurse, Fatima 
Laboo, with the most intense interest. The greater part ot 
the day the old negress rolled about on the terrace, with 
nothing but a scanty garment of cotton to protect her from 
the hot sun, and peered through the balustrade down into 
the gallery where Xaripha sat, occasionally giving vent, in 
low mutterings, to her indignation at the supposed cause of 
Xaripha’s change of spirits. 

Yah, I wish he come again. I make him fetish for him. 
I give him dish kill ten devils. Yah, I think he make little 
’Ripha feel bad. If he don’t, what he gone away for ? She 
won’t say a word — perhaps her father make her feel bad. 
Yah! I wish I know. By Prophet Mohammed, I make him 
Obi dish, too. Yah! yah!” ♦ 

One subject of interest, beside her lover, occupied a por- 
tion of Xaripha’s thoughts. She knew that the Spanish sisttrs 
were secreted in the adjoining dwelling, and pity for their 
hard fate, mingled with curiosity to see the object of Ed- 
ward’s former gallantry, urged her to visit them. The propo- 
sition, however, was met by a decided prohibition from her 
father. , 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


127 


'It will endanger our lives,” he replied. '-Recollect that 
cur every movement is jealously watched. Let attention be 
at once attracted to the house, and all will be discovered. 
The rais and I have laid our plans to get off to the kassai; of 
his friend, the chief of the Mozarg, from whence w^e can 
pass along the range of hills to the coast at Tituan, and 
thence across the straits to Spain. But if anything goes 
wrong, "our lives will not be worth a cripple’s ransom. 

Prohibited from visiting the sisters, Xaripha’s curiosity 
increased until it exercised her mind almost as much as did 
the recollection of Edward. Her active imagination invested 
them with every hue of beauty, and she could not refrain 
from mounting the terrace, and trying to catch a glimpse 
over the high battlements, into the adjoining house. 

Xaripha’s movements were closely watched by Fatima La- 
boo, who, witlf^er muttered exclamations and objurgations, 
was forever waddling about the gallery and terraces in the 
effort to keep Xaripha’s face in sight. 

At one angle of the house was situated a small turret or 
tower, covering the harrow staircase that opened upon the flat 
roof. It w-as this tower that obstructed the view of the court 
of the adjoining house. Xaripha looked up at it with a 
wistful eye. She could almost touch the serrated eaves — a 
ladder of half a dozen rounds would have enabled her to 
reach the top! Again and again did tbe young girl mount 
to the terrace, and examine with curious eyes the envious 
turret that prevented her from opening a communication 
wuth the sisters, while closely her motions were watched by 
Fatima, who, satisfied that something was wrong, puzzled 
herself in vain conjectures as to the cause of her mistress’ 
taciturnity and restlessness. 

It was the third day after the departure of Edward that, 
11 mounting the staircase, Xaripha’s attention was directed 
to two or three small slits, like loop-holes for musketry, high 
up in the wall of the turret, and corresponding to similar ones 
made over the door opening on the terrace. In an instant it 
flashed upon the young girl that she could at last reach those 
openings, and that they must command nearly as good a view 
of the court below as could be had from the top of the 
tower. She could not resist the impulse, and, flying down- 
stairs, returned with a light reed work-table, which she placed 
beneath the loop-holes. Two or three leather: cushions were 


128 


THE BERBER, 


added, and Xaripha sprang upon them, and placed her eye | 

to the opening. ^ i j- i 

The narrow patio of the adjoining house lay directly be- ^ 
neath her— Xaripha glanced down into it. She started— her 
cheek grew deadly pale— she tottered and almost f e 1 from 
her position, but recovering herself, she again looked through 
the opening, and as she looked the color came to her brow 
and cheek— redder, deeper, fiercer it burned— while her 
large black eyes glowed like those of a maddened tigress. ] 
Again the blood forsook her face— a shudder ran through | 

her frame, and springing to the floor, with a moan of an- | 

guish, she clutched her floating hair, and pressed her hands ; 
to her eyes, as if to shut out some dreadful vision. ; 

The old negress, who had been watching her through the ■ 
open door from an angle of the terrace, rushed in with a tor- i 
rent of exclamations and inquiries, but Xaripha heeded her ; 

not Her only reply was a few hysterical sobs and moans, i 

and then pushing the old woman fiercely aside, the maiden ; 

flew down the stairs, and rushing across the gallery, threw , 
herself, with a passionate groan upon her couch. i 

Fatima recovered her balance with difficulty, s-^d, tor a ^ 

few moments, stood stupidly see-sawing and shaking her head i 

and uttering her usual exclamations of yah, yah! yah, yah: | 

At length her ideas seemed to return to her. j 

see what it is makes little ’Ripha so bad here, j 

tered the old woman, as she put her finger to her head, and 

turned to the table and cushions upon which Xaripha hacl 

stood. “ But suppose ’tis a djin lives in that hole ? 1 don t 

care, he can’t hurt me. I got marabout charm and Bambarra 
fetish. You come out of that hole, mister djm, I know 1 and 
deliberately climbing upon the table, which bent beneath her , 

weight, she drew herself up to the loop-hole. . I 

The sight that met Fatima’s eyes startled her at first almost i 

as much as it had Xaripha. In an instant she felt that she | 

had obtained the key to everything in Xaripha’s conduct that | 
had puzzled her. Of all the components, primary and , 
secondary, that ever enter into the composition of the passion | 
of love, the sentiment of jealously is the most easily compre- | 

hended, especially by the unrefined and unintellectual ; ana , 

to the old woman’s mind the whole mystery was solved. | 

In the court, beneath the eye of the old negress, stood 
Isabel de Estivan; and, with his arm thrown tenderly around 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


129 


her waist, was a young man dressed in Moorish garb, whose 
face, figure, attitude and action were precisely those of Edward 
Carlyle. One hand of the maiden hung upon the shoulder 
of the young man, the other rested in his grasp, and was fre- 
quently pressed to his lips. 

Their conference was ended, and drawing the half-shrink- 
ing, half-yielding figure of the Spanish girl toward him, he j 
pressed her for a moment to his breast, kissed her cheeks, ^ 
and then retiring with deliberate gravity, disappeared through 
the skc’ffa, or entrance-room, into the street. 

The rage of Fatima had never before been so excited; she 
ground her teeth — sputtered a string of unintelligible ex- 
clamations ill the negro dialect of Soudan — clenched her 
hands — gesticulated furiously — and stamping her feet, the frail 
support gave way, and let her down, heels over head, to the 
floor. Of the narrow room, half the space was occupied by 
the area of the staircase, and, unluckily, as she rolled over, her 
head and shouldeis were directed into the yawning descent, 
down which she slid noisily, thumping from stair to stair, and 
shrieking at the top of her lungs, until she landed on the floor 
bcilow. 

The noise aroused Xaripha from her stupor, and, springing 
from the couch, she flew to her assistance. But it was 
Fatima’s turn to sulk now, and rising, she rubbed herself lo as- 
certain that her bones were sound; when, refusing ail assist- 
ance, she waddled off, muttering chreats of vengeance. 

Xaripha stood in the gallery, and leaning upon the railing 
with a vacant and pre-occupied look, watched the old womin 
as she busied herself — now in sharpening a large knife— now 
in plaiting a rope of palmedo fibres — and now in cooking, 
with sundry prayers and incantations, some kind of magic 
dish over a furnace of glowing charcoal. 

And thus will we leave the two, while we look in at the 
next door, and see what was passing at the same moment with 
the sisters. 


130 


THE BERBER, 


CHAPTER XVII. 

^‘And now that I know from my brother’s own lips that 
he loves another, I have a right, seiiorita, to tell you cii 
thoughts and feelings that I have hitherto kept shut up in my 
own breast.” 

The rover passed his arm around the waist of the unresist- 
ing Gaditana. 

‘‘You know not, dearest Isabel I” continued the young man 
in a low and quiet voice, but in that peculiar tone that ever 
indicates strong passion and feeling, subdued and chained 
by energetic will — “You know not the desperate need of my 
heart ; you know not the yearning of my soul for a higher 
spiritual and sentimental intercommunion than my destiny 
has hitherto allowed me to hope for; you know not my isola- 
tion from all around me — my disgust for the social and do- 
mestic life of this country; my untutored cravings for some- 
thing better. You know not the longings my nature has 
felt, not so much to be loved — for that, perhaps, could have 
been partially gratified by the passionate devotion of the 
women of this country — but to love. You will let me love | 
you, Isabel ? 

“ I am no Moor, sehorita, except in dress and every-day 
habits of life and language — and truth to say, in religious 
matters I am not much of a Christian, but I feel as teachable 
as a child. We will leave this land, dearest, and you shall ' 
instruct me — you shall guide my steps to the footstool of the | 
true Prophet of God. You would save a soul from perdition i 
— you would save mine, Isabel ?” 

“ To save yours,” exclaimed Isabel, “I would endanger my 
own!” 

“ And not my soul only, but my heart, too — you will not 
allow it to wither and decay ? Hast ever heard, sehorita, that j 

the vine will live and grow, but without fruit, in the desert, \ 

until water is brought near it, when at once it makes the most | 
desperate efforts to reach the fountain, and, if it fails, it sud- 
denly withers and dies ? You are the fountain that has burst 
forth in my desert; no more for me the arid sands — my heart 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


must drink the sparkling waters, or it will sicken and die. I 
must love you — you must love me — forever!” 

“Yes, forever!” murmured Isabel, as Hassan folded her 
to his heart. 

“But time flies, sehorita. See! the sun no longer gilds 
the minaret, and hark! the mueddin calls to prayers. Your 
sister is pacing the terrace, impatient for my departure, and 
I have much to do. I dare not see you often — but sleep 
without fear. The holy mother of your prophet, Seedna 
Aisa, will guard you from all evil spirits, while, with the bless- 
ing of God, I will take every precaution to secure you from 
evil men.” 

“ And, senorita,” continued the rais, as he released the 
blushing girl from a last embrace — “ be ready with your sister 
to depart at any instant. At present all is safe. The kaid, 
Hammed ben Slowek knows not where you are, and the 
Sultan is so pleased with the acquisition of several Caristian 
artisans and skilful workmen, that he thinks not of inquiring 
after my female captives. But .thanks to the kaid’s malice, 
and the Sultan’s jealous caprice, this calm cannot last long, 
and you must hold yourself in readiness to depart at a mo- 
ment’s warning. Adieu!” 

Adieu!” murmured Isabel; and, holding out her hand, 
she was about to speuk — but, changing her mind, she hesi- 
tated — deep feeling finds but few words — and then, in pure 
want of something better to say, or rather, in want of a fitting 
expression for something better and stronger, she exclaimed: 
“ Go! but do not forget me.” 

“Forget you! light of my soul!’’ replied Hassan, springing 
back and seizing her hand; “impossible! You are my sun! 
Like him you may sink out of sight for a while, bat my heart 
is elevated so high on the mountain peaks of hope, that ’twill 
bathe all night in the twilight. I shall count the sands to 
your rising — they will run slowly — but I shall not complain, 
since they are dampened with the dew of your kindness. 
Adieu!” 

The rais cautiously opened the door, and passed into the 
street. Isabel secured the door by its wooden bolts, and 
stepped back into the court, where she was joined by her sis- 
ter, who came flying down the narrow staircase leading to 
the terrace, as if she had wings. 

“Oh, sister! I have seen him! I have seen him!” ex- 
claimed Juanita* 


132 


THE BERBER, 


Who? Where?” demanded Isabel. 

Up there — over the terrace of a distant house ” — and the 
young girl’s eyes flashed with delight. He saw me — he 

waved his hand to me, and then disappeared. I suppose he 
does not like to be seen long on the terrace. You know the 
Moors do not permit men to go upon the roofs.” 

But who is it you are talking about?” again inquired the 
elder sister of the excited- Juanita. 

Who ? why the Berber.” 

What! the mountain chief who saved you from thekaid ? 
It cannot be.” 

But it is,” replied Juanita; did I not see him? Think 
you that no one has eyes for a good-looking gallant but your- 
self? I could tell him among ten thousand, if he were 
painted as black as a negro.” 

‘‘Would that Hassan knew of this,” exclaimed Isabel; 
“’tis upon this Berber that all our hopes hang; and little 
does the rais dream that he is in the city. Much I fear,” 
continued Isabel, “that his presence here endangers his 
own liberty, and thus will diminish his power to aid us.” 

“ Feaf not, sister,” replied the younger maiden; “the 
Berber is safe. Whatever danger surrounds him, he can 
take care of himself; and we, too, are safer for his presence. 
I no longer have the slightest dread of being shut up alone in 
this old house. I shall sleep soundly to-night.” 

“ Take care that you do not lie awake, thinking of this 
mysterious chief,” said Isabel. 

Juanita was about to reply , but checked herself and held 
her breath. A low knocking was heard at the door. 

“’Tis he!” exclaimed Juanita, starting and turning pale. 

“Nonsense!” replied Isabel; “it is our neighbor Abdallah. 
He comes to see if our provisions are exhausted. Get a light, 
sister — it is growing so dark that we shall need it — while 1 go 
and let him in.” 

Isabel went to the door and paused to listen. The knock- 
ing was repeated, but it was clearly frorri neither Abdallah 
nor the rais, bo:h of whom had concerted with the sisters 
signals for admission. 

Some words were spoken in a low tone. Isabel put her 
ear to the wide key-hole of the ill-fitting, roughly made door, 
and recognized at once the familiar voice of Don Diego. 

“’Tis I, Isabel, your cousin Orsolo. I know that you are 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


133 


here. Let me in quickly for God’s sake, before I am seen 
by the people of the street. I have much to say to you. 
Cousin Isabel, cousin Juanita, open the door.” 

Isabel hesitated for a moment, but he was a countryman 
and a relative, and she drew back the bohs and opened the 
door. The tall, stiff figure of Don Diego, clothed in the 
dirty rags of an old Moorish garment, stalked in. Disarms 
were at once opened, but Isabel, shrinking back, escaped the 
intended embrace. Merely touching his hand, she glided 
across the court, followed by the don, into a long, narrow, 
but lofty room, occupying the whole height of the building, 
which Juanita had succeeded in dimly lighting by means of a 
wick of twisted linen placed in one corner of a square metallic 
cup filled with olive oil. 

Toward Juanita the don attempted a more playful de- 
monstration of affection; but, with a repelling shudder, the 
maiden eluded his grasp, and darted through the doorway 
into the court. Don Diego threw himself, with a gloomy 
look, upon the cushions of an old divan, and remained for a 
few moments without saying a word. 

‘^Andso,”he said, suddenly directing a piercing gaze at 
Isabel, methinks, sweet cousin, you greet not over kindly 
your humble relative. Isabel, you hate me.” 

There was something so harsh in his tones, so abrupt in 
his manner, that Isabel for a moment was unable to reply. 
The image of Don Diego, the stern, unyielding and ungen- 
erous kinsman of Cadiz, rushed upon her mind and drove 
back the tide of friendly emotion that was flowing over her 
heart. It was with a slight degree of acerbity intermingling 
with the naturally tender tones of her voice that she replied: 

“ Indeed, cousin, do not say that; what but friendly feel- 
ing could have prompted me to address you the other morn- 
ing, when I might so easily have passed you without speaking?” 

“True, that was a friendly impulse, and I thank you for it. 
’Twas lucky, indeed — and luckily I had the wit to improve 
it, by sending a begging renegado to follow your footsteps. 
But come, my sweet cousin, tell me the story of your adven- 
tures. Explain by what sad mischance the rose of the Gua- 
dalete has been transferred to the banks of the Ordom.” 

Isabel rapidly ran over the principal events that had oc- 
curred since the departure of Don Diego from Cadiz. Her 
father’s appointment to office — the embarkation— the attack 


134 


THE BERBER, 


of the Moors — her father’s death, and the prominent circum- 
stances since landing at Salee, that had resulted in placing 
her in the position of the moment. 

Orsolo listened with a scowling brow, and in silence, until 
Isabel paused. 

“And so,” he exclaimed, in a sneering tone, while an 
affected smile distorted his sinister visage; “your English 
friend did not drown himself, as we supposed.” I 

Isabel felt that she had done wrong to say a word in rela- 
tion to Edward, and she stood without reply. But Orsolo 
followed up his remark with so many questions, and pressed 
her so closely, that she was compelled to admit that not only 
was he alive, but that hitherto he had escaped the chains of 
the slave, and that he was now concealed in Mequinez. 

“ And he expects to escape, and you — are to accompany 
him?” exclaimed Orsolo, thrusting his hand into his breast, as 
if clutching a dagger. The diabolical scowl upon his face 
made Isabel start back with fright — she looked out into the 
court — the figure of Juanita, pacing the opposite terrace, 
somewhat reassured her. 

The English dog! the cursed heretic!” exclaimed Orsolo, 
rising to his feet; “but I need not speak of him,” he continued, 
suddenly suppressing every appearance of passion, and 
assuming a bland and gentle manner, “I need not speak of 
him — he can do nothing for you here. No more can this 
brother of his — this vile pirate — this perfidious infidel — and 
no more can you trust yourself with this Abdallah. Isabel, 
you are lost — I alone can save you — 1 will do so — you shall 
return with me to Spain. Hearken to me! The terms of 
my ransom are settled. From this day I am no longer a 
slave; I am detained until my ransom arrives, but I am as 
free to move about the streets of Mequinez, were it not for 
the insults of the populace, as any Moor of the city. "T^ree 
myself, I can have no difficuhy in buying your freedom and 
that of your sister. I will obtain permission of the Superior 
of the Spanish hospitium to remove you thither, and believe 
me, Isabel, I will not leave this country unless you go with me.” 

“But to do this, Isabel,” continued the don, approaching 
her, and endeavoring to take her hand, “it will be necessary 
to call you my wife. Nay, start not. It will not be necessary 
to tell an untruth. One of the fathers of the hospitium can 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 1 35 

unite US, and thus will be accomplished the design of our 
families, and the dearest wish of your father’s heart.” 

“Indeed, cousin, it cannot be,” replied Isabel, in a mourn- 
ful voice, while a slight shudder ran through her frame. 

The don marked the instinctive shrinking at the propo- 
sition, and a scowl of deadly malice again corrugated his 
brow. 

“It must be, dearest cousin ; it must be !” he replied. “ As 
for that cursed English hound, he is powerless. Isabel, it 
must be!” 

“Never!” exclaimed Isabel, energetically. “Cousin 
Orsolo, press me no further — I never, never can become your 
wife.” 

“Your liberty depends upon it.” 

“ I shall die a slave then.” 

“ But not alone liberty — your life — your honor. Think of 
the harem of some brutal Moor.” 

Isabel’s cheek paled and her frame shook, but she replied 
in a steady voice : “ Cousin Orsolo, why will )Ou make me 
despise and detest you? ’Tis unkind — cruel ot yo 1 thus to 
persecute me. Why offer me your aid on terms tiiat I cannot 
accept ? But I need it not — I shall be saved, unless, indeed, 
you are dastard enough to betray my residence here. Come, 
cousin, be generous — press this matter no further — I can 
never become your wife.” 

“ You shall,” hissed the don between his clenched teeth, 
as he sprang forward and grasped the maiden by the arm. 
“ Girl ! think you longer to thwart me ? By Heaven and all 
the saints, you shall be my wife; right or wrong, fairly or 
forcibly, you shall be mine ! And your English lover shall 
die; shall die, girl; and his carcass shall be thrown to the 
dogs and the buzzards!” 

The don roughly shook the terrified girl. “Release me!” 
she faintly cried; but he kept his grasp upon her arm, and 
glared, with the expression of an infuriated demon, into her 
eyes. 

Suddenly there was a gleam of steel, and the don started, 
and sprang back from the point of a dagger that was almost 
thrust into his face. 

“What means this?” exclaimed Juanita, placing herself 
before her trembling sister. “ Coward ! vile, detestable 
coward ! Think you that we arc so powerless, so unpro- 


136 


THE BERBER, 


\ 


tected?” and the young girl stepped forv/ard with a gesture 
so fearless and energetic that Orsolo, unarmed as he was, 
judged it most prudent to retreat into the patio. 

“ Isabel your wife ?” continued Juanita, following him to 
the threshold of the door : “ never — better mate with the 
vilest infidel that walks the streets of Mequinez.’’ 

‘‘ My wife she shall be,” shouted the don, as he stalked 
into the skeffa, and, drawing back the bolts, opened the 
street door. And you, too, my gentle little cousin — I like 
your spirit even better than the tears of that soft one — and 
you, too, shall share the honor. A pious Mussulman, you 
know, can have more than one wife, and the creed is short : 
‘ there is no God but God, and Mohammed is His Prophet.’ 
To-morrow morning you shall have a renegado for a cousin, 
and, by the Heaven that I renounce, and the hell that I brave, 
to-morrow night shall see you, as well as your sister, a rene- 
gado’s wife.” 

His last words were spoken in a loud tone, while holding 
the open door in his hands. As he stepped into the street he 
stumbled over a man, who was coiled up, Moorish fashion, at 
the door-sill. Don Diego started. 

‘’’Tis no matter,” he muttered, “even if he did overhear, 
‘ il AllaJi rassoul, Mohammed Allah,^ will set it all 

right. It is not often that the Moors get such a proselyte 
as I am— a free man — one who has just paid his ransom. I 
shall be created a kaid at once. But first to make a bargain 
for the price of my apostacy with the kaid of the slaves — and 
then for love and revenge.” 

With his white and parched lips muttering, and the fires 
of demoniac passion raging at his heart, the don passed, ab- 
sorbed in himself, along the streets. Nor did he perceive 
that he was closely followed by the man over whom he had 
stumbled as he made his retreat from the dagger of Juanita. 

As soon as the door had closed upon him, the young girl 
let fall her weapon, and rapidly securing the bolts, darted 
back to her sister. 

“ We are lost,” exclaimed Isabel. “And I, Juanita, have 
ruined all. Oh, why was I so weak as to admit him; or 
rather why was I so foolish as to speak to him in the street? 
Oh, I have ruined all — myself, you, Edward, and it may be, 
Hassan.” 

“Say not so, sister,” replied Juanita, “Our friends are 


i 


A TALE OF MOROCCO 


137 


powerful and resolute, and if we could only let them know 
of the threats of our kinsman, I feel sure that some plan 
could be devised to counteract them. Oh, that Abdal.ah 
would come !” 

But Abdallah did not come. No friendly knock inter- 
rupted the silence of vague and depressing apprehension, and 
for an hour or more the sisters sat locked in each othei’s 
arms. 

Suddenly there was a slight whizzing noise in the air, fol- 
lowed by the sound of something failing on the brick pave- 
ment of the patio. 

Both maidens started with fear, but Juanita, recovering 
herself in a moment, seized the lamp and darted into the 
court. A piece of paper, attached to a leaden bullet, lay in 
sight. The young girl seized it, and running back to Isa- 
bel, the sisters proceeded, with trembling hands, to untie 
the string by which^it was attached to the weight. They 
opened the note, but, to their great chagrin, the first words, 
although written in Roman characters, were in a language 
of which they were entirely ignorant. The words were pure 
Berber: 

‘‘ Elezad mourhed heeou otigharb ckedhir ousherk,'^'* The 
sisters might have puzzled over them all night, were it not 
that upon turning the paper they found penciled in 'Span- 
ish a translation of the Berber proverb: 

“ If the west wind don’t bring it, the east wind will.” 

“ What can it mean ?” exclaimed Isabel. 

Juanita jumped to her feet and waved the paper exult- 
ingly. 

, “Everything, sister, everything,” she cried; ‘‘it means 
hope, courage, liberty.” 

“ But whence comes it ?” demanded Isabel. 

“ Why, sister, how dull you are,” replied Juanita; “who 
but one could have sent it? Don’t you see — what means the 
east wind — the wind from the mountains ?*’ 

“ The Berber?” inquired Isabel. 

“ Certainly! I knew that it was he whom I saw on the ter^ 
race. Oh, Isabel, we are safe.” 

‘- God giant it,” replied the elder sister; “but much I feai 
the malice of Don Diego. I doubt not the will of your Ber- 
ber, for of that the rais has assured us; but much I doubt his 
power.” 


THE BERBER. 


I3S 

Doubt nothin^:, sister,” exclaimed Juanita, energetically; 

Oh, if you had seen him, as I have, you could not doubt. 

I know, sister, that I have something here — at heart — that 
many a man lacks; courage, energy, will; and this conscious- 
ness made me see, and feel, the exact counterparts of those 
qualities in him — but how overwhelming the sense. I saw^ 
myself, but it was myself magnified into a giant. Oh, sister, 
•shall I tell you how I felt when he left me waiting for your 
arrival on the hillside ? It seemed to me as if I had sud- 
denly became two persons, and as if the one that was most 
myself was mounted on a big black steed, and was flying 
over b ish and rock, up the hill.” 

‘‘ My dear child!” exclaimed Isabel, this Berber has 
turned your head — and your heart, too, I suspect. Juanita, 
you are in love! ’ 

“ Oh, no, Isabel,” exclaimed Juanita, wi h an earnest sim- 
plicity. I am not in love, but I admiie him; I venerate 
him.” 

^‘Venerate him! For his years, I suppose? I think you 
said he was about twenty-two. Venerable man ! The in- 
firmities of age, I trust, will not prevent his aiding us. 
Come, sister, let us go upon the terrace; this room is stifling, 
and we can better discuss in the open air a hero of such pro- 
portions as your Berber.” 

The sisters paced the enclosed roof, or stretched themselves 
on a cushioned carpet beneath an awning of tent-cloth that 
covered one angle of the battlements. Isabel’s unwonted tone 
of badinage was kept up for some time, and the whole con- 
versation was of a more cheerful ca: t than could have been 
expected after the propositions and threats of Don Diego. 
This was owing partly to their disbelief in the intentions of 
the Don to turn Mohammedan, and ignorance of the power 
that his apostacy would give him— partly to the encourage- 
ment afforded by the Berber’s note — but, more than all, to 
that principle in human nature that does not permit a long 
and uninterrupted indulgence to the stronger and more ac- 
tive emotions of the mind. The ocean of passion has its 
tides, and it is rarely possible to keep the level forever up to 
high water mark. The law of love is that of ebb and flow, or 
stagnation and decay. The sternest grief that ever lay like a 
pall on a human heart. will wear threadbare in places, and let 
in the light of day again upon the sentiments and the affec- 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


139 


tions; the most mortat fear that ever barred our pathway will 
in time grow familiar, and cease to be terrible. It may be a 
lion, and a fierce, formidable lion still, but, instead of stand- 
ing forever in despair, we shake the beast by the paw, and 
pass on. No one can afford to be frightened at any danger 
forever. 


CHAPTER XYIII. 


It was the time of the Ramadan, when, for a period of 
forty days the Mohammedans rigorously abstain from food, 
and even drink, during the day. The instant, however, the 
mueddin announces, by his call to El Mogared,* that the day 
has closed, the hungry believer hurries to indemnify himself 
for his privations, by an indulgence in food, limited only by 
his pecuniary means and the capacity of his stomach. The 
slightest return of appetite is closely watched, and eagerly 
taken advantage of, and four or five times in the night do the 
wealthier disciples of the Prophet fortify the inner man agaimt 
the attacks of hunger during the coming day. That there may 
be no excuse for breaking fast in the day time, trunTpets are 
sounded by the mueddins at intervals during the night, to 
waken people to their meals, and just previous to Es Sebah, 
messengers from the mosques rush wildly through the streets 
uttering loud cries, and beating on the doors with heavy 
clubs. To the higher classes — those who can afford to sleep 
all day and eat all night — the Ramadan is not a very trying 
time, but to those who have to labor by daylight, the fast is 
one of considerable severity. 

The Mequinezians were all occupied in their houses with 
the evening feast, and consequently the streets were quiet 

♦ Every Mussulman must say his prayers five times a day. The first t;ime at the 
first point of dawn, or when the sun is at eighteen degrees under the horizon in the 
East, which is called Es-sebah. The second time in the afternoon, when the 
shade of the gnomon, placed perpendicularly in the sun, shows the fourth part of 
its length— this prayer is called Ed-douhour. The third prayer is made when the 
shade of the gnomon is equal to its own length - this prayer is called El-assar. The 
fourth takes place a moment after sunset, and is called El-i^ogareb ; and the fifth is 
at the last mcfnent of twilight— it is. called El aaschir— E\\ Bey. 


140 


THE BERBER, 


and deserted as Don Diego made his way back to the quarter 
of the Christian slaves. 

Without molestation he passed on, and m a few steps 
reached an open gate leading to a small court, around which 
were ranged several long rooms. Through an archway at 
the further side of the court, could be seen an immense in- 
closure, filled with little thatched hovels, hardly as large as 
pig-sties, and not half so clean, in which were lodged several 
hundred Christian slaves. These were common laborers 
who had been found fit for nothing but carrying stone and 
mortar for the Sultan’s buildings. The mechanics and skilled 
workmen were distributed in other quarters, and more 
closely watched. 

Some of the guards were engaged over heaps of embers 
in cooking the materials for their evening meal; others were 
solemnly employed in thrusting enormous handfuls of coos- 
coosoo into their mouths, from dishes that had been brought 
in by children and slaves; while others, stuffed to repletion, 
were rolled up in their haick; on the floors and pavements, 
or squatting around the wails, were looking with the gravity 
of satiated gluttony upon the movements of their companions. 

Orsolo’s entrance excited no attention. He was looked 
upon as a ransomed man, and if he chose to run the risks of 
the street, it was not the business of the guard to hinder him. 
They were placed there to prevent Moors from coming in, 
rather thati to keep Christians from going out ; and why should 
they interfere with a Kaffir who was no longer a slave, and 
who would receive nothing more than his deserts if he should 
be knocked on the head by some Christian-hating belieVer, 
or stoned to death by the rabble? 

The don crossed the court, and paused under the further 
arch, where he could look over the enclosure of huts, and 
listen to the voices of the slaves rising in a loud chorus of 
ribaldry and blasphemy. Some were wrangling and cursing; 
some shouting, laughing, and strumming guitars to obscene 
words; and some praying and groaning in pain and despair. 
Slowly he paced to and fro, along the arched passage, but 
every now and then he would start forward with a rapid step, 
gesticulate violently, mutter to himself, and then wiping the 
cold perspiration from his brow, and the flecks of foam from 
his lips, his movements would subside into a more gentle gait. 
Terrible was the contest between love and hate and the thirst 


A TALE OE MOROCCO. 


141 


for revenge on tne one hand^ and his religious scruples — his 
fear of eternal punishment — his detestation of the Moors and 
Moorish life on the other; and so absorbing, too, that he 
heeded not the presence of a figure that, gliding from the 
court, threw itself upon the pavement of the passage, as if for 
sleep. 

For nearly three hours did he continue to pace the arched 
passage^ Suddenly stopping, he raised his clenched hand, 
and violently smote his brow. 

I’ll do it,’^ he exclaimed, in a loud voice. By all the 
hendsl I’ll do it Surely,’^ he muttered in a lower tone, I 
shall find some means in time to leave this country, when there 
will no d faculty in making my peace with the Church. 
But if I should not— if I should die a Mohammedan— why, 
then, hell may be my portion, but I will have her— I 
will have revenge^’^ And turning with a rapid step, Don 
Diego entered the court of the guards. 

Addressing himself to a Spanish renegado, he expressed 
his wish for an audience of Hammed ben Slowek, chief kaid 
of the slaves. The request was communicated to the captain 
of the guard, who opened wide his eyes in astonishment at 
such unheard-of presumption. 

The kaid sleeps, or perchance he is engaged in his devo- 
tions,” replied the captain, The Kaffir can w^ait,” 

Tell him,” replied Don Diego, in a raised tone, ‘Hhat I 
must see him. My business is important. A Christian soul 
is knocking for admission at the gate of the Prophet, and who 
dares say, wait till the morning, and it shall be opened to 
him.’* 

This announcement created something of a sensation. The 
captain sprang to his feet, and the various members of the 
corps huddled with excited countenances around the tall figure 
of the sullen, savage-looking Spaniard* 

A do«en voices urged him to repeat the customary formula 
of the Mohammedan faith. 

I will repeat nothing, say nothing, do nothing,” exclaimed 
Orsolo, "‘until I have seen the ka’d.” 

The Moors saw that it would be useless to urge him 
further, and forthwith a messenger was dispatched to that 
officer. In a few minutes he returned, and the don, 
accompanied by a tumultuous and excited escort of more 

than half the corps de garde, was hurried across the street, 

- ^ 


143 


THE SEEBEKy 


and., passing a low door^ entered a dark, dingy skeffa, or 
vestibule, hardly large enough to contain half a dozen persons. 
But in this particular it differed not from the audience rooms 
of the highest ministers of state. 

In a few minutes the kaid made his appearance from 
the court, and, squatting without ceremony upon a small 
morocco cushion by the inner door, demanded the cause of 
this visit. 

My business can be communicated only to my lord, the 
kaid,’’ replied Orsolo. I must speak with him alone.” 

Dog!^’ exclaimed the kaid, ‘^do you mean to say that you 
have dared to set your foot in a saint’s house for any other 
purpose than to renounce your idolatrous belief?” 

The kaid spoke angrily. Although a bigoted Mohammedan, 
and, as such, desirous of making proselytes under ordinary 
cireumstances, he was too much interested in the receipt of 
the Christian’s promised ransom to fully relish the idea of his 
escaping the payment of it by apostacy. 

I come to repeat the creed of the Prophet,” replied 
Orsolo, in a tone of dogged determination; ‘‘also to speak 
to my lord the kaid in relation to two Christian females, and 
I wish to say what I have to say in private.” 

At this the kaid started, and ordered the room to be cleared 
of all except the interpreter. 

‘5 Speak 1 what is it you have to say!” he eagerly demanded. 

“ I was a Christian and a Spaniard,” replied the don. “I 
now renounce my religion and my country. I am a Mussul- 
man and a Moor — and this without compulsion — of my own 
free will. I am not even a slave — I am a free man — my ran- 
som is at hand ; and yet ” — Orsolo paused, while a shudder ran 
through his frame, and the cold sweat bedewed his forehead, 
“ and yet,” he continued, clenching his teeth, and nerving 
himself for the dreadful confession, “ I give up all for El 
Islam. ^La iiaha, ila Allah Mohammed Rasoul Allah/^^^ 

There was a struggle for a moment in the mind of the kaid, 
between his bigotry and his avarice — between his zeal for El 
Islam and his itching for the Christian’s ransom. But bigotry 
finally prevailed. The kaid sprang to his feet, and threw his 
arms around the apostate. 

Alhamdo Lellahi I Praise be to God!” he exclaimed, 
kissing him on the head and breast. Sobhana Allahi ! 
' AU^hu Ak\bar ! Alhamdo'Lillahi P'* and pulling him down 


A TALE or MOROCCO- 


HS 


to a seat by his side, the kaid continued to press his hands 
and kiss him on different parts of his person, amid a shower 
of congratulations and devotional ejaculations, for full five 
minutes. 

It was with a sense of the most bitter humiliation that 
Orsolo endured the caresses of the negro, but he dared 
not resist. He even made a show of returning them, and 
several times forced his parched and quivering lips to do 
homage to the black, brawny, and not over-clean hands of 
the saint. 

Suddenly pausing, the kaid looked inquiringly at the new 
convert. 

“ And what of the ransom that is on its way from Spain 
he demanded. 

Of course,” replied Orsolo, as a Mussulman and a Moor, 
I need pay no ransom.” 

A dark frown gathered on the countenance of the kaid. 

But,” continued Orsolo, observing the expression, and 
lowering his tone as he bent toward the kaid, “if I pay no 
ransom for my freedom, that shall make no difference with 
the purse of my lord the kaid. 1 have a favor to ask — a 
small one — one that, as a convert to El Islam, I have the 
right to ask of the Sultan, but one for which I am willing to 
pay half the sum that has been agreed upon for my ransom, 
to any one who will help me to obtain it. 

“ Listen 1” continued the don; but there was no need for 
the direction: the attention of the kaid was thoroughly 
aroused. “There are two Christian women in the city who 
have been retained by their captor, one of the corsairs of 
Salee, for his own purposes. He has forfeited all claim to 
them by secreting them, contrary to the Sultan’s order. I 
want them for my harem.” 

“Are they the women captured by Hassan Herach?” asked 
the kaid, in an eager voice. 

“The same,” replied Orsolo, somewhat astonished at the 
evidences of intense interest exhibited by his companion. 

“Where are they now?” demanded the kaid, clutching 
the Spaniard’s arm with a vigorous grasp. “Do you know 
where that deg of a rais has hidden them ?” 

“My lor^ must pardon me,” replied Orsolo, “if I 
keep their place of concealment a secret until I am assured 
that they shall be mine.” 


144 


THE BERBER. 


The kaid‘s eyes flashed and the frown on his brow deep- 
ened ; but suddenly smoothing his face, he replied in a sub- 
dued tone: 

’Tis but for the sake of revenge on that villain, Hassan 
Herach, that I wish to know. Tell me where they are; let 
me convict him of keeping back two of his captives, and the 
women shall be yoursd’ 

“ If I can but discover their hiding-place/^ thought 
Hammed, “it will be hard if I do not find means to secure 
them to myself, and finger this renegade’s money into the 
bargain.” His thoughts engendered a corresponding expres- 
sion, and there was something so sinister in his scowling eyes, 
and so hollow in his assumed smile, that Orsolo paused in 
terror. His heart sickened within him as the conviction of 
the kaid’s insincerity came upon him. He felt that he was 
on the point of losingall for which he had sacrificed so much, 
and with the energy of desperation he laid his hand upon the 
kaid’s arm. 

“Look you, Sidi Hammed ben Slowek,” he exclaimed, “I 
am not to be trifled with. These women I will have. I will 
appeal to the Sullan. I will make my demand known in the 
mosque on the day of my initiation. I will shout it to the 
populace in the streets. Think you that I shall not be in a 
position — I, a volunteer convert to the true faith-— to enforce 
so trifling a demand as that for two miserable, worthless 
Christian slaves?” 

The kaid saw that he had a determined man to deal with, 
and that perhaps the safest course would be to compromise 
matters, and divide the spoil. Turning to Orsolo with an air 
of frankness, he extended his hand. 

“Take one,” he said, “and leave the other to me.” 

Orsolo hesitated, and looked inquiringly into the kaid’s 
eyes. 

“Take one, we are friends, are you and sure of the other. 
Insist upon both, we are enemies, and you will get neither.” 

“But tell me,” demanded Orsolo, “why is it that you 
trouble yourself for a Christian woman?” 

“Spaniard, I have seen her — she has been in my arms= 
her breath came into my face as she lay across my saddle* 
bow, and the zephyrs of Spring from the plains of Marasche 
are not more sweet. When I lost her, I lost a pearl — a dia- 
mond — a star. But what could Ido? I was alone with that 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


M5 


son of Eblis, the Berber— may the curse of Allah light on 
him and his race; but so soon as I learned that by some 
means, I know not how, she had been recovered by the rais, 
I swore, by the arch of El Serat, by the sacred waters of 
Zemzem^ that she should be mine. Spaniard, give her up to 
me, and the other shall be yours !” 

‘‘ You mean the tallest and slenderest of the two ?’^ gloom- 
ily inquired Orsolo. 

“The One,” replied the kaid, ‘‘who sits on her horse like a 
bird on a bough, and who walks on the ground as if she were 
stepping on flowers, and each flower a friend.’’ 

Orsolo locked at the burly speaker, and a feeling of com- 
punction came over him as he thought of the fair face and 
delicate form of the doomed Juanita. But it 'vvastoo late for 
repentance. He had taken the fatal plunge, and both sisters 
must go down into the pit with him ! And the young 
Englishman I “Ha!” muttered the don, “there is that 
account to settle; but time enough when I have secured my 
bride; he can wait — he cannot escape me.” And turning 
to the kaid, he grasped his proffered hand, and signified an 
assent to his proposition. 

With many oaths on either side the bargain was ratified, 
and dispositions made to seize upon their victims. Ah! 
could those victims have known the horrid contract of which 
they were the subjects, they w^ould not have lain them down, 
after pacing the terrace to a late hour, and, locked in each 
other’s arms beneath the awning, have slumbered so quietly 
the while. 

A guard of half-a-dozen men was ordered out, and at the 
head of it Orsolo and the kaid proceeded to the house that 
bad been allotted to the sisters. The first faint glimmerings 
of morn — the grey dust thrown up in the sky by the pranc- 
ings of Apollo’s chargers — were flying overhead when they 
reached the door. 

Don Diego knocked several times, and called to the sisters, 
but no answer was returned. It was an object to enter the 
house without attracting much attention, or exciting a tumult, 
and the kaid, knowing that he had no especial warrant for 
what he was doing, and that it might be dangerous to offend 
the prejudices of the town’s-people by forcing the door, 
waited until Don Diego had exhausted all his efforts to ob- 
tain a lesponse. But fin line, Lt length, that there were no 


146 


THE BERBER, 


Other means, and that the darkness would soon disappear and 
uncover his operations, he directed his men to throw them- 
selves with violence against the door. The fastenings were 
old and feeble, and yielding with a crash, the door swung 
into the skeffa, and the party rushed through the vestibule 
into the court. 

All was silent and deserted. The rooms were open, but 
not an occupant. The terrace was equally vacant. Some- 
thing on the pavement of the court attracted their attention; 
it was a large pool of fresh blood. Spots of blood were 
traced up the stairs leading to the roof, and several pieces of 
clothing lying about were moist and warm with it. The 
don and the kaid looked at each other in doubt and amaze- 
ment. It was evident that their intended victims were gone; 
but where, and how ? And the blood ! what could have 
happened to them.’^ 

“ Better anything,” whispered the conscience of Don Or- 
solo, ^‘than the sacrifice to which you had doomed them.” 

And the wretched renegade’s conscience was right. Better 
even death itself than the common, but none the le:S terrible, 
sacrifice of maiden innocence, when that sacrifice is uncon- 
secrated by the holy spirit of love; but better a thousand 
deaths than when the sacrifice is desecrated by all the vilest, ^ 
most brutal and diabolical passions of the human heart. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

We left Fatima, after her sudden, headlong descent from 
the terrace, engaged in sharpening a large knife, and in per- 
forming sundry mysterious incantations and magical cere- 
monies over a small earthen pot that was bubbling on a fur- 
nace of charcoal in a corner of the large court. 

Fatima was a native of Bambarra, whence she had been 
brought across the desert by the slave-dealers of Fez. She 
was already grown to w^omanhood, and consequently had 
brought with her the prejudices and superstitious practices 
of her countrymen, which, when converted to the faith of 
her captors, instead of giving up, she continued to mingle in 
admirable mental confusion with the rites and doctrines of 


A TALE OF MOROCCO* 


147 


El Tslam. She believed as well in Obi as in Allah; in the 
virtues of the fetish, and in the efficacy of amulets from the 
Koran; in the power of the gingams or priests, and in the 
sanctity of marabouts and saints. 

On almost all other subjects the contents of her mind were 
equally in a jumble, but there was one point upon which her 
reason, her faith and her affections were perfectly clear. She 
loved Xaripha with the whole strength of her passionate, 
energetic, b goted, and ignorant mind. She had nursed her 
when an infant. She had watched over her with all a mother’s 
anxiety. She felt as if she were her own child. * And now, 
should a rival have it in her power to make her darling mis- 
erable ? Fatima looked up to the gallery where Xaripha 
sat, and energetically shook her head. 

‘‘Yah ! how white her face is,” she muttered to herself. 

He make her stop painting her cheeks, and now he take all 
the blood away, too — but this,” she continued, making a 
menacing gesture in the direction of the adjoining house, 
“shall make somebody’s heart as white as her face; I know — ■ 
yah, yah!” And the old woman resumed, in a low, chant- 
ing voice, her incantations and prayers. 

At length the dish that she was watching seemed to be 
cooked to suit her, and taking it off the fire, she allowed the 
contents to cool. With muen muttering, and divers contor- 
tions of the body, she now proceeded to anoint various parts 
of her person with the unctuous product of her magical dis- 
tillation — and ended by applying some of the same substance 
to the blade ofithe knife. 

It \vas not until nearly three o’clock in the morning that 
Xaripha, who had been wandering about upon the terrace and 
the galleries of the courts, retired to her sleeping apartments, 
leaving Fatima coiled up, apparently in a sound slumber, upon 
a mat in the open court. A few minutes afterwards the old 
negress started to her feet, and after ascertaining that the 
other slaves were asleep, she passed on to her master’s room, 
and listened for some time at his door. 

“Yah! he sleep like a lion,” she exclaimed — “’Tis only 
Lelia Xaripha who can’t sleep — but I think she won’t come 
out again. Poor Xaripha saghira! She has cried all the 
tears out of her eyes. I guess she shut ’em up now till 
morning.” 

The old woman cautiously traversed the outer court, and 


148 


THE BERBER, 


unlocking a small store-room, brought out a ladder of a few 
steps, used for reaching the various articles of provender, such 
as dates, dried grapes, bags of cooscoosoo, etc., hanging against 
the wall. The ladder was light, and without difficulty she 
carried it up the narrow staircase to the roof, where she 
placed it against the wall of the turret. Re-entering the 
turret, she secured a bundle of cord made of palmetto fibre, 
and returning to the ladder, ascended as rapidly as her obesity 
and her age would permit. The ladder did not quite reach 
to the roof of the tower, and it was with a degree of exertion 
that compelled her to roll over on her back and wait for 
breath, that she drew her^ielf to the top. 

It was a delicious balmy night, but intensely dark — a 
heavy canopy of high clouds, while it prevented the dew from 
falling, shut out the stars, and left nothing to mitigate the 
intense blackness except the occasional glimmer of lamp-light 
shooting upward from the open patios, and playing on the 
white-washed walls. 

The house in which the sisters were lodged was but one 
story, and consequently from the terrace to the top of the 
turret of Abdallah’s house was a height of nearly twenty feet; 
not much for an active man, but something for a fat and 
feeble woman. Nothing daunted, however, Fatima, as soon 
as she had recovered her breath, gave one look below and 
proceeded to fa-ten her ladder of cords around the dentils of 
the serrated eaves. Boldly and noiselessly she threw herself 
over, and in a few moments stood upon the terrace below. 

All was silent. Fatima listened — she heard nothing to 
indicate that there was any one asleep on the terrace as is 
generally the custom among the Moors in pleasant weather. 
A lamp was in one of the rooms below, and through the half 
opened door flung its light into the court. 

“She must be down there,” muttered the negress, and 
grasping her knife, she groped her way to the staircase, and 
descended. 

Cautiously pushing opeii the door, she entered the room, 
and looked around. A piece of carpet and a few cushions, 
were all that it contained. Crossing the court, the old woman 
listened at the doors of the other three rooms, and then trying 
them, and finding them unlocked, she pushed them open and 
entered, but no sounds indicated that the rooms were occupied. 
She returned to the first room, and detaching the lamp from 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. I49 

the wall, proceeded to examine the other apartments by its 
light. 

For a few moments Fatima stood quite bewildered in the 
court. It seemed as if some djin must have spirited the 
objects of her search away. 

“I think I don’t make that fetish strong enough,” she ex- 
claimed. ‘’Yah, yah! I think it must be a djin, or may be, 
Eblis himself, but I don’t care. If I once see the devil I tell 
him what I think, that I will. Yah, yah 1 But I hav’nt 
looked round the terrace — perhaps I find her up there.’’ So 
saying, Fatima, with the lamp in one hand and her long, sharp 
knife in the other, ascended the stairs. 

As she raised the lamp, the light fell upon the awning we 
*have mentioned, in the further angle of the battlements; cau- 
tiously she advanced until she stood before it, and then stoop- 
ing, she placed the lamp upon the terrace floor, and looked in. 
The sisters were there asleep; and a beautiful picture they 
made, as half sitting, half lying, and almost buried in the piles 
of cushions covering its thick-tufted carpet, they reposed in 
happy unconsciousness of the danger impending over them. 
A picture of intense Orientalism — such as can never be paral- 
leled, except upon a Summer’s night on the terraced roofs of 
some Mohammedan town. 

Juanita lay with her face hidden in the cushions, her black 
hair loose, and enveloping neck and shoulders in a thick, 
inky, billowy flood of curls, and her arm thrown across her 
sister’s breast. Isabel lay with her face turned upward — ■ 
one hand grasped Juanita’s arm, the other was thrown care- 
lessly off upon the cushion. 

Deliberately Fatima knelt by the side of the Gaditana. 
There was light enough to reveal the fair features of the elder 
sister — the graceful contour, the placid expression, but not a 
sentiment of pity or compunction stirred in the heart of 
Fatima. In fact, the extreme beauty, enhanced in the eyes 
of the negress by a certain fulness and roundness of outline, 
only aroused a sterner emotion in the inexorable avenger of 
Xaripha’s wrongs. 

‘‘ She is too handsome,” murmured Fatima; “ she cannot 
live in the same world with Xaripha. Yah! yah! she is too 
beautiful! I don’t like to kill her, but I must do it — and the 
other one — ah, poor child — I don’t want to harm her, she 
never do any harm to Xaripha. I am sorry for her when she 


X50 


THE BERBER. 


wake up and find her sister dead; but this one — oh, she is 
too round and full and beautiful! Yah! yah! I must kill her, 
I must put the obi knife right into her heart.” 

Cautiously the old woman leaned over the body of her 
sleeping victim. The lon^ sharp knife gleamed in hef hand; 
she raised it on high, and aimed the point of it full at the ex- 
posed breast of the unconscious Isabel. 

There was the sound of footsteps on the terrace — a scream 
— -and the next instant a female form darted like lightning 
along the roof and threw itself upon the kneeling negress. 
The threatened blow was partially given, but it fell short of 
its mark. Fatima was pushed backward, and almost tumbled 
into the court. The kntfe was twisted from her grasp, inflict- 
ing, as she rolled over and over upon the roof, a deep cut in 
her arm. A terrible spluttering of Arabic and negro excla- 
mations issued from her lips, as she groped for a moment for 
her knife, and then sprang, almost wild with passion, to her 
feet. But the moment sbe confronted her unexpected 
antagonist her eye quailed, and her arm fell. 

“ Xaripha,” she exclaimed, ‘‘Xaripha saghira ! yak, yah, 
I think it is a djin.” 

‘‘Away with you!” exclaimed Xaripha, energetically. 
“Wretch! murderess! away with you!” 

Xaripha turned to the sisters, who, now fully awake, had 
started from their reclining positions in vague alarm. 

“Thank God!” she exclaimed in Spanish, “ I was not too 
late; one moment more — ah! I shudder to think of it,” and 
Xaripha covered her eyes with her hands. 

“What is the matter? what has happened?” demanded 
the sisters in a breath. 

Xaripha hesitated for a moment. “ It will be safest, sehor- 
itas, for us to go below, where I will explain the affair to 
you. I am afraid that we may have already attracted attention 
from some of the higher house-tops, or from the minarets of 
the mosques.” 

“ And this woman,” exclaimed Juanita, going up to the 
crest-fallen Fatima — “what of her? See, she is wounded. 
Come, come below, where we can find something to stanch 
this bleeding.” 

Fatima sullenly shook off the kindly grasp of the young 
girl. Her mistress sternly ordered her to descend to the 
court. The old woman cast a suspicious look at Xaripha. as 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


if still questioning whether she was not some deceitful djin, 
who had assumed the form of her favorite in order to balk 
her of her revenge, but she obeyed. She, however, reso- 
lutely persisted in refusing all assistance. In silence she 
wiped the blood from her arm, and then thrusting a handker- 
chief around the wound, moved off with gloomy brow, as- 
cended again to the terrace, and from thence by her rope 
ladder to the turret of her own house. 

Xaripha pushed aside the half-opened wicket in one of the 
folding doors, and motioned to the sisters to enter. Stepping 
in after them, she raised the lamp to Isabel’s face, and gazed 
at her for some timei without speaking. Isabel returned the 
gaze with a look of wonder and curiosity, which gradually 
grew deeper and deeper as the bright glittering orbs of the 
Moorish maiden, beaming with the expressions of contending 
emotions, remained fixed upon her. 

Generous admiration and burning jealousy chased each 
other in successive waves over the pale face of Xaripha. 
But at last the more noble wave swelled, and, impelled by a 
breath of scorn for her own weakness, rolled proudly on, 
and, overpassing its rival, filled up each inequality of 
expression with the flood-tide of calm and unselfish emotion. 
Xaripha turned, with a sigh, and placed the lamp against the 
wall. 

‘‘Indeed, seiiorita, you are very beautiful,” exclaimed 
Xaripha, taking the hand of Isabel; “ more beautiful than I 
had dreamed of; I wonder not at any one loving you. I 
should rather wonder at any one seeing you and not loving 
you — you are made to be loved. But,” continued Xaripha, 
seeing the puzzled expression of the sisters’ countenances, 
“ you are waiting for an explanation of my presence here, 
while I am detaining you with my idle admiration; and yet 
it is not wholly idle nor useless. There is a meaning in my 
admiration, to me at least; it does me good to admire your 
beauty — to admit it fully — to bow to it.” 

Xaripha spoke passionately, paused for a moment, and 
again looked moodily at Isabel. 

“And you, too, seuorita,” she exclaimed, turning quickly 
and with a pleasant smile to Juanita — “ you, too, are beauti- 
ful — your beauty is yet in bud; but much I pity any woman 
who shall have you for a rival. But come, why should we 
stand here so awkwardly ?” And twining her arms around 


152 THE BERBER, 

the sisters, the young Moorish girl pulled them down to a 
seat on the cushions. 

You know my father, Abdallah?'’ she inquired. The 
house adjoining is ours. To-night I could not sleep; I rose 
from, my couch and ascended the terrace. I saw a ladder 
resting against the turret wall. I climbed up it, when, to my 
astonishment, 1 found another ladder of ropes leading down 
to your terrace. 1 knew that it must have been placed there 
by my old nurse and slave — she whom you saw. 1 descended. 
Thank God, I arrived in time to save you — 

A shudder ran through the frame of Xaripha; she paused 
again, and closed her eyes. 

^‘From what?” demanded Juanita. What was the 
danger?” 

From death. Fatima was about to take the life of your 
sister — a moment more and the keen blade would have been 
buried in her breast.” 

‘‘Ah! say you so? And for what reason? Who could 
have prompted her?” 

“No one. She is ignorant — prejudiced — full of strange 
notions, and somewhat infirm of intellect: and on one sub- 
ject she can hardly be considered in her right mind.” 

“Poor creature!” exclaimed Juanita, “she is then a 
maniac.” 

‘‘No, not so,” replied Xaripha. “Allah has not wholly 
called her soul to himself, but he has cast a shadow upon it, 
and that shadow is her love for me; she dotes on me — she 
sees nothing else in the world but me; she lives for me — she 
would die for me.” 

“ But why should she attempt my life?” demanded Isabel. 

“Ah! poor Fatima! she is jealous.” 

“Jealous ! of whom?” 

“Jealous of you. She cannot bear that any one more 
beautiful than I am should live.” Xaripha spoke hesitating- 
ly, while the blood rushed to her cheeks. 

Isabel mused for a moment. “Has this slave of yours ever 
seen us before ?” 

“ I believe that she has seen you, seiiorita,” replied 
Xaripha. “ I know not that she has seen your sister.” 

“Strange!’’ murmured Isabel. “When and how, think 
you, has she seen me?” 

“ At sunset, from the loop-hole of the turret.’' 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


^53 


Isabel looked inquiringly at the speaker. Xaripha's brow 
became crimson, and her eyes fell beneath the Spanish girl’s 
glance. 

Isabel’s face lighted up with a peculiar expression; she 
threw her arms around Xaripha and embraced her. 

“I think I begin to comprehend Fatima’s groundless jeal- 
ousy,” she whispered. 

“ Groundless !” exclaimed Xaripha, raising her head. 

But further question was cut short by Juanita, who raised 
her hand for silence, and uctered a low Hist !” 

Again there was a sound as of something falling into the 
court. Juanita rushed out of the room, and in a moment 
returned with a piece of paper, on which was written in 
Spanish: ‘‘Danger is at hand — open the door — I dare not 
knock— open quickly, I must see you.” 

“What can it mean?” exclaimed Isabel; “can this be 
from Hassan ?” 

“'Not so,” replied Juanita, who still held the note in her 
hand. “ ’Tis from the Berber;” and the young girl turned 
to step into the skeffa, or small vestibule, leading to the 
door. But Xaripha and Isabel both stretched out their hands 
to intercept her movements. 

“ Hold!” exclaimed the elder sister. “ Have a care — you 
may be deceived. Perhaps this is some trick of our cousin 
Orsolo.” 

Juanita hesitated an instant. “ I cannot be deceived,” she 
replied, pointing to a few words in pencil at the bottom of 
the note. 

“But I understand it not,” said Isabel, taking the paper. 
“ ‘A ride on a black steed, and a kiss between the ground and 
the saddle.’ What does it mean ? ’ 

The color overspread Juanita’s cheek; but turning, she 
made an impatient gesture in reply, and darted across the 
court into the dark ekeffa leading to the street door. A slight 
tap of the finger was heard, and Juanita, with a trembling 
hand and a beating heart, drew back the bolts. The door 
was at once pushed open from the outside, giving admission 
to a person who will be introduced more appropriately, per- 
haps, to the reader, in a new chapter. 


154 


THE BERBER. 


CHAPTER XX. 

The stranger entered, and closing with a rapid motion the 
door behind him, instantly threw his arms around the young 
girl with a movement which, in the dim light of the skeffa, 
she could neither see nor elude. 

Juanita trembled and struggled, although she shrieked not, 
nor felt fear as he pressed her to his breast, and deliberately 
bowed his mouth to her lips. It was but the instinct of 
delicacy, and a sentiment of feminine pride, and Juanita felt 
with a thrill of fear that these were failing her, and that there 
was creeping over her a reckless and dreamy sensation — a 
disposition to return an embrace which she knew she ought to 
resent as a deadly insult. 

Fear not, sehorita, you are not in the arms of your ad- 
mirer, the kaid,” he whispered, in a voice that thrilled 
through every nerve of Juanita’s frame. 

There was something, however, in the remark that aroused 
her spirit, and throwing back her head, she struggled to free 
herself. 

‘‘Unhand me!” she exclaimed, energetically; “ this is cruel 
—ungenerous — ” 

“And ill-timed, you may say, with equal truth,” said the 
young man, deliberately releasing her from his arms. “ I 
grant it all, seiiorita, but the taste of what you wot of still 
lingers on my lips, and the temptation is strong to renew its 
freshness. However, I will let you go free now; but mind 
you, seiiorita, I shall give you a thousand kisses yet — aye, a 
thousand times a thousand! And what is more, you shall 
return them all; nay, seiiorita, I feel the boiling of your 
blood, and I see even in this gloom the flash of your eyes, but 
it will not avail to resist. 1 have been thinking over the 
matter since I saw you, and I am determined that you shall 
love me — desperately love me. I am resolved that it shall be 
so. But come, we have no time to talk about it now — time 
presses, and death, or worse than death, will soon be knock- 
ing at the door.” 

A strange whirl of emotions filled the young girl’s breast. 


A TALE or MOROCCO. 


^55 


In all her dreams of love — and she had had her dreams, 
young as she was — the possibility of being wooed in such an 
abrupt, off-hand, even impudent manner, had never occurred 
to her. Her pride was touched — her delicacy offended — 
still there was a charm in the very manner of the young 
man who so boldly avowed his determination to compel her 
love. Juanita felt vexed at being thus resolutely and famil- 
iarly treated; but still more vexed at feeling her indignation 
qualified by a sentiment of secret pleasure. Without reply, 
she led the way across the court. The Berber follow'ed, 
pausing at the threshold of the room, and letting his eyes fall 
with an expression of surprise, upon the figure of Xaripha. 

The maiden had been educated in none of the prejudices 
of her countrywomen; but the appearance of the young and 
handsome stranger, who had the garb and mien of a Moor, 
somewhat startled her. Hastily loosing the silken handker- 
chief from around her head, she let the folds fall over her face, 
so as to conceal all but the large black eyes. 

Juanita, in answer to the young man’s glance of inquiry, 
introduced him to her sister and Xaripha. 

‘‘The daughter of my friend Abdallah,” said the young 
man, bowing with grace, and advancing to Xaripha, “will 
not think that I fail to honor her extraordinary beauty, when 
I say that she must depart at once. Your countryman has 
renounced his religion 1” he continued, turning to the sisters; 
“and he has betrayed your secret. By this time the guard 
of the kaid of the slaves- is on its way hither for your appre- 
hension.” 

“Hal can it be?” exclaimed Isabel. “ Oh, how w^eak and 
wicked was the impulse that bade me speak to him!” 

“’Twas generous, seiiorita,” replied the Berber; “and 
therefore it could not have been wrong.” 

“ Alasl ’ said Isabel, “I have not even that excuse; it was 
a mere thoughtless, motiveless impulse. ’Twas the familiar 
tone — the voice of a countryman — the sound of my native 
tongue, that forced his name from my lips without will or pur- 
pose of mine. Oh, ’twas weak — ’twas wicked to risk so much 
— to peril this dear child’s safety as well as my own!” 

Xaripha stood in silence, listening to the conversation. 
Few girls in her position — bearing her supposed relations to 
Isabel — could have repressed an emotion of pleasure at the 
prospect of her rival’s removal from her path. But Xaripha 


THE BERBER, 


156 

was generous and pure of soul; quick and passionate in tem- 
perament, like all her race; and with the germs of evil lying 
in her breast, her education had afforded no opportunity for 
the devdopment of any but the better qualities of her heart. 
Without companions of her own sex — sole mistress of her 
father’s household — sole object of his affections — her life had 
been a calm and balmy Spring day, varied only by the flashes 
of brighter sunshine that occasionally gleamed through the 
mists of her imagination. 

‘‘What do you propose shall be done?’^ interposed Xari- 
pha, addressing the Berber. “ The kaid will care nothing for 
the sanctity of a house known to be uninhabited by Moors, 
and the door will yield to a push.” 

“We must leave the house,’' replied the Berber, “ and that 
quickly. On the further side of this wall is a vacant space, 
where stands the dragon-tree you must have often seen from 
your terrace, and beyond that an old, crumbling uninhabited 
house. ’Tis my plan to lower these two ladies to tne terrace 
of that house, where they can remain for a day or two unmo- 
lested. It can be very easily done,” and the Berber produced 
a coil of rope made of strips of Cordovan leather, from be- 
neath his djellabeah. 

“ No,” exclaimed Xaripha; “ they shall go with me.” 

“It is impossible, sehorita,” replied the Berber. “The 
guard is by this time in the street; and if not, there are pass- 
ers-by who would note every motion. You can reach your 
door in safety; but it would not answer for these ladies to 
attempt it.” « 

“ We need not go by the street,” replied Xaripha. “ We 
will leave this house in the way in which I entered it — over 
the turret yonder, by a ladder of rope.” 

“Ha!” exclaimed the Berber, laughing, “ that will do — 
that will circumvent them. But what will Abdallah say ? he 
may not like the risk. Ho\vever, it is only for a day, w^hen 
another asylum may be found.” 

Xaripha’s assurances soon removed all scruples in relation 
to her father, from the minds of the sisters. The Berber 
still had his doubts as to whether Abdallah would be willing 
to run the risk of secreting them in his own house for any 
length of time; but at the moment, Xaripha’s generous propo- 
sition was not to be refused, and he urged its instant accept- 
ance. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


157 


I fear you will not think me very gallant in pressing your 
departure,’’ he said; but darkness is a good cover to other 
things than love-making, and much I fear we shall have but 
little of it. Would that your escalade could be made in the 
daylight; I would not envy the Patriarch Jacob his vision.” 

Collecting a few articles of apparel, and putting out the 
light, the sisters led the way to the terrace, followed by 
Xaripha and the Berber. 

Xaripha was the first to attempt the ladder; a dozen loops, 
attached to the principal cord, made as many steps; and in a 
moment she was at the top of the tower. Isabel next essayed 
the ascent, which she accomplished with rather more diffi- 
culty, but in equal safety. 

Juanita’s foot was in the loop, when the Berber, who had 
been steadying the rope for her sister, took her arm and 
drew her back. 

‘‘One moment, senorita,” he exclaimed. “ I have some- 
thing to say to you. You will see the rais; tell him that I have 
received his messages, but that it has been impossible for 
me to meet him. Indeed, at present it would be useless. I 
know what he requires; but the Sultan’s forces have gathered 
in overwhelming numbers, and my men are shut up in the 
hills. Tell him he must wait a few days, when I shall be in 
a condition to afford him the assistance he desires.” 

“But you,” exclaimed Juanita; “are you in no danger 
here ?” And the maiden laid her hand upon the young 
man’s arm.” 

“In danger, it may be,” he replied; “ but it matters not, 
I have my objects, and I must run some risk.” 

“Be not overbold,” replied Juanita. 

“ Fear not, sefiorita. I have resources and I have friends. 
Ay, even in this very city, if I chose to give the word, I 
could create such a commotion as has not disturbed the 
repose of the Sultan for many a day. There are hundredsof 
Berbers who, although of different tribes, and hereditary ene- 
mies in the hills, would, here in the city, rally in an instant 
to the call of the chief of the Beni Mozarg. But that would 
be a small game. I, senorita, am playing for a larger stake.” 

“ And that stake — ” exclaimed Juanita, with interest. 

“That stake, senorita,” interrupted the Berber, “is empire. 
Come closer to me, and I’ll whisper my secret. Let me secure 
the union of our tribes, and I will drive these Mussulman 


THE BERBER, 


XS8 

dogs, these Shereefs, with their pretended descent from their 
Prophet — back to their deserts. I will build up what their 
jealousy has torn, down. I will replace what their bigotry 
has destroyed, I will furrow this waste, desolate empire 
with the marks of industry, I will adorn it with the monu- 
ments of science and art I will cover it with cities, and I 
will fill the cities with the temples of Christ.” . 

You, a Christian?” eagerly exclaimed Juanita. ' 

‘^Did you think me a paynim or a pagan, seiiorita? Know 
you not that this land was once Christian, and that some few 
of our tribes still retain a spark from the old altars? Yes, I 
am a Christian, but to one of your church I might better be 
without any religion. Better be a heathen than a heretic ! 
Ha! seiiorita?” 

‘‘So would say our churchmen at home,” replied Juanita, 
“but I have often been called a heretic myself by Father 
Padilla, and I fear I should not hate you as I ought. But 
how is it that you are a heretic, sehor? Methinks I have 
heard that St. Augustine and St, Cyprian were Fathers of 
the African Church.” 

“You are right,” replied the Berber, “ but the Doifatists 
were numerous, and when the Vandals, who were also fol- 
lowers of the doctrines of Arius, came to their assistance, 
your Latin Trinitarians were swept from the field. True, in 
the days of Justinian the arms of the Belisarius restored the 
supremacy and the dogmas of the Roman Church; but our 
religion did not die with the Arian martyrs. It was terribly 
persecuted, but. it took refuge in the Atlas, and still lives. 
Hast ever heard of Arius, senorita?” 

“ Never,” replied Juanita. 

“And I dare say there are hundreds of priests in Spain 
who never heard of his name; so do not take shame for your 
ignorance. 1 will tell you all about him some day, but now it 
is no time to be preaching a sermon, when I ought to be im- 
proving my time with vows and prayers.” 

The young man drew the graceful, delicate figure of the 
maiden closer to him. 

“ Vows, sefior; to what saint?” 

“Oh, to the last one that I have added to my calendar — 
to a beautiful Spanish saint.” 

“ Ah,” replied Juanita, “I am afraid you are too much of 
a heretic to worship in good faith at an orthodox shrine.” 


A TALE Ol' MOROCCO. 


^59 

Not so,” said the Berber; ‘‘although an Arian in religion, 

I am truly a Catholic in love, and my vows to-night are 
of an amatory character. Will >ou hear them?” whispered 
the young man, “ dearest Juanita, will you hear them? I 
vow that I love you — I adore you — I worship you — I — ” 

“ Hush 1” exclaimed Juanita, half frightened at the thrill 
of pleasure that made her nerves vibrate like harp-strings. 

Hush ! enough of your vow's — come to your prayers.” 

“Oh, my prayers! I will defer them until some more fit- 
ting time, except one — one little prayer.” 

“ What is that?” demanded the maiden, as the Berber 
pressed her slightly resisting form closer to her breast. 

“ That you will grant me what you refused just now,” 
whispered the young man. 

Juanita started back, and with a sudden and rapid motion 
freed herself from his arms. 

“ Understand me, seiior,” exclaimed the young girl, lay- 
ing her hand upon his arm ; “ I will give you a kiss willingly 
— voluntarily, and because I choose to do so; but I will not 
be wheedled into it, nor forced into it.” And Juanita lightly 
touched her mouth to the Berber’s bps, and then bounded 
back out of his reach, 

Bueno ^ senorita 1” exclaimed the Berber; “spiritedly 
done, and as unlike your coy but warm and yielding country- 
women as an honest man could wish Bueno f ” And the 
young man leaned against the battlements, and indulged in a 
hearty, boyish laugh. 

Juanita knew not whether to laugh or cry; on the one hand 
was the contagious influence in the young man’s low but 
clear and peculiarly ringing tones, on the other was a degree 
of vexation with him, for the equivocal manner in which he 
had received her favor, and with herself for granting it. 

“I have traveled in your country, senorita. ’Tisbutayear 
since I made a pilgrimage to the former homes of my Vandal 
and Berber ancestors. I saw much of yoxiv countrywomen, 
and I found but two ways of dealing with them — either to 
force them or to coax them. But I have learned somethicg 
new to-night, and if 1 have a favor to ask of you again, I shall 
respectfully present a written petition.” 

“ Take care that it is not spurned for its insolence,” replied 
Juanita, with spirit. 

“ Nay, senorita, be not offended,” said the Berber — ad- 


i6o 


THE BERBER, 


vancing, and taking her hand — ‘‘I did but jest. But hark 

there is a noise at the door the kaid has arrived, 

and it is time to ascend, all angels go up when their 

mission is accomplished; yours is finished for to-night; you 
have laid a coal on the altar, and now you can mount 
heavenward — trust me, dearest Juanita, the flame shall not 
die. 

‘‘Be sure to tell the rais, Hassan Herach,’’ he continued, 
“ that there is a fitting house to the left of the Bah el Gharb, 
or West gate.” 

“ But do you not go with us into Abdallah’s house ? Hark ! 
there is Orsolo’s voice.” 

“ No,” replied the Berber, “it would be unseemly for me 
to enter a Moorish house over the terrace. Not that Ab- 
dallah is any more of a Mohajmmedaa than either of us; but 
I have an engagement beyond the wails, which I must fulfill 
ere it be too light, and yon guard will be in the street until 
sunrise.” 

“ Hark, again,” exclaimed Juanita, “ there is Orsolo’s voice 
in a louder tone. Oh ! if they force the door and find you 
here !” 

“ Have no fear, senorita. They will find it difficult to 
follow me. Do you know that I can fly ?” 

“ Oh! stop not to trifle thus,” exclaimed Juanita grasping 
the Berber’s arm; “ in a moment they will force the door!” 

“I am not trifling, senorita. Ask the Moors, they will tell 
you that among my other accomplishments I number the art 
of flying like a bird. I like to encourage the report. The 
reputation has already served me in place of wings. But if I 
cannot fly, I can do something very much like it, as I will 
show you. Do you see that tree?” said the Berber, pointing 
to a tall dragon-tree with its half-dozen short, stumpy arms 
radiating from the top, each about five or six feet in length, 
and as large at the outer end as where they issued from the 
trunk. “ You can barely perceive the outline of it, but to my 
Berber eye ’tis as plain as in daylight. You shall see how 
that tree shall open a door for my escape.” 

So saying the Berber seized the coil of rope that he carried, 
and, jumping upon the battlement, swung it round his head 
and launched the noose at the arms of the dragon-tree. The 
loop caught upon one of the sturdy horizontal limbs, and, 
pulling upon it, the Berber satisfied himself that it was securely 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 1*6 1 

placed. Fastening the other end around his arm he sprang 
down upon the terrace, and seized the rope leading up to the 
turret. 

Mount, senorita,” he exclaimed, mount while I steady 
the rope for you. They are growing impatient at the door — 
draw up the cord and detach it from the turret. Adios, tier- 
no bien mio^ adiosP 

As rapidly as she could place her feet in the loops, the 
young girl sprang up the ladder. As soon as her foot was on 
the fiat roof of the tower, she drew up the cords by which 
she had ascended, and detaching them from their fastenings, 
threw them over on the other side upon the terrace. 

Isabel was standing on the top round of the short ladder, 
impatiently awaiting the appearance of her sister. ^‘Gracias 
a Dios r"* she exclaimed, ^‘you have come at last. What 
made you stay so long ?” 

Hush !” replied Juanita, turning and throwing herself fiat 
on the turret, with her head over the edge. Directly below 
her, and almost within reach of her arm, was the dark figure 
of the Berber standing upon the narrow battlement. A crash 
was heard at the door, and half a dozen men rushecf into the 
court. At the same instant she saw the figure of the Berber 
spring from the wall on which he was standing, sweep down- 
ward in a course like a pendulum, rise again in a corresponding 
arch, and land like a bird on the low terrace of an opposite 
house — dart along it, and throwing himself over the further 
wall, disappear in the street beyond. 

The chant of the mueddin floated upon the morning air. 
^‘A-i-a-e salah ! A-i-a-e salah I A i-a-e ala el felah! A-i-a-e 
ala el felah! Es saldtou hhairoun minn en ndoum ! Es 
sclldtou hhairoun minn en ndoum / Come to prayers ! Come 
to prayers! Come to the temple! Come to the temple! 
Prayer is better than sleep! Prayer is better than sleep 1 
La ilahah ila Allah! There is no other God than God!” 

Juanita sprang over the side of the turret, and rejoined her 
sister and Xaripha on the terrace. 


I62 


THE BERBER, 


CHAPTER XXL 

The perplexity of the worthy kaid of the gates was at its 
height when he learned the events of the night. He was no 
coward, but he knew the risk of being accused of harboring 
the sisters — he knew the precarious tenure by which he held 
the Sultan’s favor, and he trembled for the success of his 
long-cherished plans for leaving the country with his daughter 
and his gold. 

As soon as it was light he set out to visit the rais. He had 
not far to go. Hassan, excited beyond all possibility of 
sleep, by love, mingled with anxiety for the safety of the 
object of his strong, deep passion, had passed a wakeful 
night. Restless and feverish, he sallied into the street, when, 
by an irresistible attraction, his feet were directed involun- 
tarily toward the dwelling of the graceful Andafi4za. It was 
with difficulty that Abdallah could induce him to turn back 
to his own house, even upon the assurance that for the time 
both the maidens were safe. 

‘‘ But where are they ? Tell me where I shall find them,” 
wildly exclaimed the rais, losing for the moment his habitual 
expression of calm gravity. 

‘‘I will tell you nothing,” replied Abdallah, until you 
come out of the streets. In your own house we can talk 
without being observed — here each moment is filled with 
danger.” 

Upon entering the house, the kaid looked carefully to the 
fastening of the door, and then drawing Hassan and his 
brother into an inper room, he told them the story of the 
unsuccessful attempt of the kaid of the slaves and his new co- 
adjutor, the renegade Don, 

“The maidens shall come here at once,” said the rais. 
“ I will bring them openly, and defend them with my life. I 
will go to the Sultan, and demand that the villains be punished 
for breaking into a door of mire.’' 

“ You will do nothing of the kind,” replied Abdallah. 

“And who shall prevent me?” fiercely demanded the 
rais. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 163 

I will,” replied the kaid; your brother; the girls them- 
selves; every consideration of prudence! To do so would 1 e 
to bring ruin upon all heads — to throw your captives into the 
hands of their enemies — to lose your own life, perchance — 
certainly to give your brother into slavery, and utterly destroy 
viy only chance of leaving the country. No; you will do no 
such thing!” 

‘‘ What, then, shall be done ?” demanded the rais. 

‘‘ Trust to time and the Berber,” replied Abdallah. 

Aye, and in the meantime stand exposed to the attacks 
of the kaid, aided perhaps by this cursed renegade.” 

‘‘ But we must baffle him,” replied Abdallah. We must 
remove them with all secresy to a new hiding-place. The 
Berber sends word that there is a fitting house by the Bab el 
Gharb. I will go and see to it. If we cannot get that, we can 
some other. Thanks to the ignorant and brutal despotism 
that weighs upon us, there are empty houses enough to be 
had almost for the asking. I will hire one, and your 
captives can be removed to it to-night. If we can get the 
house indicated by the Berber, they will be close to the gate, 
which I can open to them at any time when the Berber shall 
have a party ready to receive them and secure their retreat to 
the hills. It would be worse than fool-hardiness to attempt 
tQ leave the city until the chief of the Beni Mozarg gives the 
signal.” 

The advice of the philosophic Abdallah was the best that 
could be.given, and his plans were none the less sound because 
it was not alone a regard for the interests of the rais and his 
captives that prompted them. He was anxious to get the 
sisters out of his house, partly because it was unsafe for them, 
and because he considered it would be best to follow the in- 
dications of the Berber, and partly because it was unsafe fc-r 
himself. He also urged that the rais should await the move- 
ments of the Berber, partly because it was the most prudent 
course, and partly because it would give him time to close 
certain money transactions with the Jews; and to prepare 
himself and daughter to join the rais and his captives in their 
flight. 

“It will not answer, I suppose,” inquired Hassan, “ for me 
to pay them a visit at your house tb-day ?” 

To this question the kaid replied by a decided negative. 
“To-night,” he said, “you will come, immediately after 


j64 


THE BERBER, 


Ml-aaschir, when the streets will be all deserted; give three 
slight taps at the door, and I will be ready with your 
captives, closely muffled. It is but a few steps to the Bab el 
Gharb. I must hurry now to the palace. The Sultan, it is 
said, is too ill to appear this morning; but still there is no 
confidence to be placed in the harem reports, and the old 
tiger may take it into his head to show himself. As soon as 
I am free, I will seek the house by the gates of the West and 
engage it.” 

It was clear that, under the circumstances, no better 
conclusions could be arrived at. Abdallah departed, arid 
the rais was compelled to await, in concealed anxiety, the 
passing of the day. His brother was not less anxious, and 
still more impatient of the confinement and restraint. To 
Edward the hours seemed like weeks, that separated him from 
Xaripha. He had not that control of his passions and feeb 
ings that marked the character of his brother. The volcanic 
elements in him were ’perhaps not more abundant or more 
fiery, but the crust over the crater was thinner and more liable 
to rupture. 

The impatience of the brothers was somewhat relieved, and 
the current of their thoughts diverted, by a salute of twelve 
guns from the palace battery, followed by a great tumult in 
the streets. There were the shouts of the populace, the soupd 
of musical instruments, and the reports of musketry. The 
rais stepped out to inquire the cause of the commotion. In 
a few minutes he returned, and with marks of interest in his 
manner, desired his brother to come with him, but first to 
muffle up his face, as if suffering from pain, and to draw the 
hood of his djellebeah over his head. 

Accompanied by Selim, the brothers made a detour 
through the streets, and took a position near the entrance to 
the great mosque. In a few minutes the head of a noisy pro- 
cession debouched into the square. First came two or three 
hundred mounted men, a’ lned with muskets, which, as rapidly 
as possible, they loaded with loose powder, turned ,in from 
the hand, without wadding, and fired in the air. Behind them 
advanced a dozen musicians, industriously thumping in very 
quick time, as many drums, of various sizes. The discord 
would have been terrible had it not been overwhelmed by the 
shouts of the ragged crowd who followed them, and in the 
midst of which rode the tall, gaunt figure of Don Diego de 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. I 65 

Orsolo. He was mounted on a large horse, of fine action, 
and superbly caparisoned. The saddle housings were of red 
cloth, embroidered with gold thread. The girths and breast- 
bands were of silk, worked with verses from the Koran. The 
bridle and head-stall were of plated morocco leather, and 
glittered with gold and precious stones. Two distinguished 
Imaums, or expounders of the law, lecl the prancing barb. 
The don was clothed in Moorish costume — yellow slippers, 
legs bare to the knee, the haick of white woollen, and a large 
turban of fine linen. His countenance was ghastly pale and 
cadaverous; his cheeks hollow, his eyes sunken, and over all 
was diffused an expression of rage, remorse and fear, that 
made him look more like a fiend than a man. 

As the procession turned into the open place in front of the 
mosque the renegade caught sight, through an opening in the 
houses, of the wooden cross surmounting the hospltium of the 
Spanish friars. A thrill of mortal terror shot through his 
heart. He shuddered, trembled— almost fell from his saddle. 
A vision of eternal punishment burst upon him, and fora few 
moments it seemed to his bewildered senses as if he were 
already in the infernal regions, and that the struggling, yelling 
crowds of upturned faces that surrounded him were the 
actual legions of the damned. 

The renegade glanced at a -group of Christian slaves en- 
gaged in repairing the guard-house of the 7nillah. Anything 
except life would the don, who at heart was a bigoted Chris- 
tian, have given to change places with the meanest one of 
that group. But it was too late. The fatal confession of a 
belief in Allah and the Prophet had passed his lips; and 
could the populace suspect even a disposition to recant, he 
knew that his quivering limbs would soon strew the streets of 
the city. 

He threw an agonized glance over the crowd. It fell upon 
the figure of the rais. Edward was so closely enveloped in his 
djellabeah that his features could not be seen, but the resem- 
blance between the brothers was so close that the don doubted 
not that he saw in the rais the face and figure of his hated 
rival. Instantly the expression of the renegade’s countenance 
changed from desperate anguish to intense hatred. He would 
have stopped and indicated the object of his vengeance, but 
he was swept along by the shouting crowds to the door of the 
mosque, where, with difficulty, a passage was cleared for him 


i66 


THE BERBER, 


into the sacred edifice. The active exertions of his friend, 
the kaid, however, prevailed, and he was at length enabled to 
pass the portal, from whence he was conducted to a small 
carpet, such as the Moors use to pray upon, which was placed 
upon a raised platform, at the side of the mehreb^ or niche, 
from which the Imaum directs the prayers, and in full view 
of the dense audience filling the vast court of the mosque. 

The usual confession of faith was recited by the renegade, 
followed by the invocation Allahouakibar ! God is great ! 
repeated in a dozen different positions — standing, stooping 
with hands on the knees, sifting, and prostrate, with knees, 
hands, nose, and forehead on the ground, • intermixed with 
verses from the Koran, and exclamations of ^^Semeo Allahou 
liman Hamidahhju! God listens wdien praise is given to 
Him,” concluding with the prayer, ^^A/a/zaiaiaul la/ii oua 
salaouatou oua utaiabatou assa/amo^c aaleikiaiohaennebiyou, 
oua rahnianieul lahi, oua barana^ahou asmla?nou aalema, oua 
aa^a abadou l-lahi assalaheina, aschahadou azinala lllahaila 
Allah ouahadahou, oua, a chahadou anna Mouharmnedoun 
abadou oua rassoulouh 'uP 

‘•Vigils are for God; so are piavers and alms. Welfare 
and peace to thee, O Prophet of God! May the mercy and 
blessing of God be also upon thee. Welfare and peace to 
us, and to all the just and virtuous servants of God. I attest 
that there is no God but the one God, and that Mohammed 
is his servant and Prophet.” 

^‘This bodes fresh mischief,” exclaimed Hassan, as the 
brothers withdrew from the crowd, and returned by the de- 
serted streets to their dwelling. “ Did you notice the look 
that he threw at me ?” 

“Aye, indeed; it was no loving glance. It may be tl at 
he took you for me; and yet it can hardly be. He cannot 
know that I am alive, and he must have seen you as captain 
of the corsair.” 

“I know not that,” replied Hasssan. “He may not have 
thought until the present moment that you are living, but 
much I mistake if he does not think so now. You forget that 
he WPS captured at night, closely confined below deck, and 
landed at Salee at night. I question whether he has ever 
seen me before.” 

“ In that case,” replied Edward, “ he unquestionably mis- 
takes you for me; and what his passion for his cousin might 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. I 67 

not prompt, hate and j alousy will drive him to attempt. It 
is to be hoped that his power may not equal his will.” 

‘‘I know not,” returned the rais, gloomily; ^‘renegades 
are always in high favor for the first few days after their 
apostasy, although their position comes to be miserable 
enough and contemptible enough in the. end. But this is an 
uncommon case; the don is a man of wealth, he was also a 
freeman; his change of religion, unforced, unsolicited even; 
the highest offices and honors are within his grasp, and much 
1 fear that he will have power to give us trouble.” 

‘‘Let iis leave the city then, at once,” exclaimed Edward. 

“ To be picked up by the first party of black troops that 
we encounter; to be followed, in an hour’s time, by the kaid 
of the slaves, or this miscreant Spaniard, and carried off 
beyond all hope. of rescue or redemption. No, beyond the 
city walls we have no place of refuge except the kassar of 
Casbin Subah. There alone grows, on the tree of freedom, 
the fruit of safety. To reach the tree — to pluck the fruit — 
we must wait the assistance of the Berber. If we can succeed 
in removing the Gaditanas to-night, without being observed, 
I trust that we shall yet throw these hounds off our trail, keen 
as is their scent.” 

The brothers returned to their lonesome, ill-furnished do- 
micile, where, with nothing to amuse or occupy them but 
their own thoughts, the remainder of the day passed slowly 
away. Hassan, from his Moorish training, had acquired 
something of one of the great Mohammedan virtues — pati- 
ence and resignation; but for Edward, his Christian educa- 
tion little fitted him to endure the chafing of his ill-schooled 
spirit — the excitement of his ebbing hopes and fears. He 
watched the persistent glare of the mid-day heat and light, as 
it poured perpendicularly into the open patio, until his brain 
seemed about to take fire. No shadow would show itself; 
the very miracle of Joshua was Joeing re-enacted for his 
especial mortification and punishment — the sun stood still in 
the heavens. 


i68 


THE BERBER, 


CHAPTER XXIL 

The generous Xariphawas now the hostess of her supposed 
rival. She had saved her life from the knife of Fatima; and 
although, as the beams of the morning streamed into the 
court, the extraordinary beauty of the Spanish maiden was 
more fully revealed to her, she suffered not the jealous pang 
that shot through her heart to excite one evil thought affect- 
ing the ultimate safety of the Gaditana. As if to assure her 
own determination, she hastened to interpose the inviolable 
guarantees of Arabic hospitality, and to break bread and 
share salt with the maidens. 

And well was Xaripha rewarded, when Isabel, noticing her 
forlorn look, took her by the arm, and leading her to a 
cushioned seat in the corner of the gallery, resumed the 
confession that the entrance of the Berber had interrupted. 

Dear Xaripha!” exclaimed the Spanish girl, as she twined 
her arms around her Moorish friend, ‘^you recollect that I 
pronounced Fatima's jealousy groundless ?” 

The cheek of the Moresca grew pale, and then glowed red, 
as if painted up to the high standard of Moorish fashion. 
The glance of the tigress flashed for a moment from her dark 
eyes, and then the long fringe of eyelashes closed over them, 
and they remained fixed upon the floor. 

“Groundless!” repeated Isabel; and then, after a pause, 
she proceeded to speak of the slight passages of gallantry 
between her and Edward Carlyle — the passionate admiration 
for Xaripha that the young man had admitted to his brother 
— the close resemblance of the brothers — and lastly, with 
some embarrassment of ipanner, of her own passion for the 
rais. 

Xaripha’s heart beat tumultuously as Isabel proceeded in her 
tale — the tears came to her eyes, and her lips trembled. 

“ Th^re is one question that I must ask you,” she said, 
hesitatingly, and placing her hand upon Isabel's arm — “ one 
question, senorita.” 

“ Ask anything you please,” replied Isabel, ‘‘and I will 
answer you in truth.’’ 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 169 

Tell me, then, where and when did you last see this 
young Englishman ?” 

In his boat, as he pushed ofT from the shore at the bar of 
the Guadalete,” replied Isabel. 

And your — your — ” Xaripha hesitated, and her brow be- 
came crimson — ** your visitor of last evening — ” 

Was ti^e rais Hassan Herach or Henry Carlyle,” replied 
Isabel, smiling. 

Xaripha uttered a cry of pleasure and surprise, and threw 
her arms around Isabel’s neck. The next moment, ashamed 
of her emotion, and doubtful of being able to control it, she 
sprang to her feet, and dashing, with a look wild wdih de- 
light, along the latticed gallery, threw herse.f upon her couch. 
Heie she buried her face in the cushions, and gave vent to 
her.emotions of happiness, as she had before to her feelings 
of jealousy and despair, in tv ars. 

Suddenly Fatima, unseen by her mistress, put her head in 
at the door. The negress had followed the high of Xaripha 
along the gallery — had seen her throw herself upon her pillow 
and 1 ow stood hstening intently to her stifled sobs. She 
knew nothing of the conversation between the maidens, and 
her own conclusions were that the emotions of her beloved 
mistress could be prompted only by jealousy and despair. 
As Xaripha raised her head, Fatima withdrew from the door- 
way and descended to the court. 

Yahl yah!” muttered the old woman, wagging her head 
from side to side, w'hile an expression of demoniac determi- 
nation gleamed from her eyes, and puffed out her fat cheeks, 
“ I take. good care this time, oh 1 Xariph asaghira, this daugh- 
ter of Eblis shall not trouble you any more. Leila Ripha’s 
heart is too soft — I shan’t let her know what I going to do — 
but I guess I take care this time — Yes, yah! yah! I take good 
care this time.” 

The remainder of the day Fatima kept out of sight of 
her mistress. Moody and silen^. she busied herself with 
her avocations in the court and among the menials — hardly 
deigning to look above, or to take any notice of the evi- 
dences of interest and sympathy wfliich she might have seen 
passing between Xaripha and her guests. The feeble mind 
of tlie old wom^.n was whiAw occupied w^ith one id^ a — that 
of disposing of Xaripha’s supposed rival; and that she was 
determined to carry out, even in despite of her mistress’ 


170 


THE BERBER, 


wishes, looking upon her as a child whose good rather than 
whose pleasure was to be consulted in the case. On her 
part Xaripha did not imagine that the attempt of the negress 
against the life of the Gaditana would be renewed, and 
when subduing the emotion excited by the explanations of 
Isabel, her time was too fully occupied with the sisters to 
heed the mutterings of the old woman, whose wrath waxed 
fiercer as she heard the tinkle of the guitar from the gallery, 
and then, alternately, the voices of the Moresca and Gadi- 
tana in song. 

A pleasant laugh from Xaripha floated through the lattice. 
The indignation of Fatima fairly bubbled over. To rival her 
child in love was bad enough, but to come into the house 
and make her sing and laugh under such circumstances, was 
something that could never be forgiven. Fatima grasped her 
knife, but putting it down again with an effort, she contented 
nerself with distorting her face into a series of diversified 
scowls, and industriously wagging her head. 

‘‘Yah! yah!” she exclaimed, ‘‘wait a little while. I go 
sure this time — yah! yah!” and waddling off, the old woman 
retired to her own den in a further corner of the inner court, 
where, coiling herself up on a piece of Rabat matting, she 
brooded over her own and the wrongs of her mistress, and 
elaborated her plans of revenge. 

It was noon when Abdallah, returning, announced to the 
sisters that it had been decided they should remove that night 
to the house indicated by the Berber, which, as it had been 
stinding unoccupied for some time, the worthy kaid of the 
gates had found no difficulty in obtaining possession of. To 
this arrangement the generous heart of Xaripha was strongly 
opposed; she insisted upon it that the sisters should remain 
where they were, and that she and her father should encoun- 
ter any risk to protect them. Abdallah replied that it was 
not alotie for his own sake that he proposed to take the 
sisters to another house — it was necessary to their safety. 
Their removal had been advised by the Berber, and approved 
by the rais. “The kaid of the slaves,” he said, “will at 
once divine their present hiding-place, if he does not know 
it already; and the only way to baffle him, will be to send 
the sis ers to their new h ding-place before they can be 
tracked by spies.” 

^lill Xaripha could not be convinced, although she was 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


171 

forced to yield; which she did at last only to the wishes of 
Isabel, who announced her determination to abide by the 
decision of the rais. 

“And, Juanita,” exclaimed Xaripha, “you, too — have you 
nothing to say? do you wish to go?” 

“ I do not wish it, certainly,” replied the young girl; “but 
as Isabel puts her faith in the rais, I don’t see why 1 should 
not have some confidence in the Berber; and his last words 
to me were that we should remove as soon as possible to a 
house near the Bab el Gnarb.” 

“ Let us hope that it will be but for a short time that you 
are separated,” whispered the kaid. “ A few days at most, 
atid then may we all meet where the path of safety crosses 
the road of danger.” 

Further argument was useless, and Xaripha withdrew with 
her new friends to the cool and airy alcove at the end of the 
latticed gallery. There, stretched at ease upon piles of gilt 
and embroidered morocco cushions, the three maidens passed, 
in animated conversation, the Summer’s afternoon, Xaripha 
had many inquiries to make respecting the land of her ances- 
tors; and not a little astonished was she to find, that on many 
points of Spanish history she was far better informed than her 
guests. She could repeat old ballads that the sisters had 
never heard. She could describe the bull-fights, and the 
joustings which signalized the entrance of the great Almanzor 
into Toledo. She could picture the mosques and palaces of 
Seville, and Cordova, and Grenada. The sisters could bet- 
ter speak of the present condition of the country. With the 
bull- fight they were familiar; but, alas! — and Juanita sighed 
as she said it — the gallant knights and proud chieftains who 
once, for grace in fair ladie->’ eyes, entered the arena, had 
now degenerated into hired picadors and matadores. Of the 
tournaments nothing remained; of the mosques and palaces, 
a good deal still stood, but altered or obscured by the heavy 
and intolerant hand of the Church. Xaripha sighed as the 
conviction grew upon her, that the Andalusia of her imagina- 
tion had ceased to exist. 

And thus, in pleasant conversation, or in silence full of 
unexpressed feeling and thought, the day rapidly passed. The 
same sun that stood still for the ardent and anxious brothers, 
moved rapidly over the gallery wherein were grouped the maid- 
ens. The shadows of balustrade and cornice fell into the 


172 


THE BERBER, 


court, and grew longer and longer, and wider and wider. 
The slender fountain no longer flashed in the sunlight. The 
sparkle and glitter were gone, but, as if to make up for the 
loss, the joyous waters rose and danced, and sang, and fell 
back into the now shaded marble basin, with a more musical 
a more soul-subduing eound. The lattices of the gallery were 
thrown open. The rich, full figures of Xaripha and Isabel, 
supported amid piles of cushions, rested upon the thick 
tufted carpet. The slighter but not less graceful figure of 
Juanita reclined against the pilaster of the <. pen arch, from 
whence she could watch the play of the bubbling water, as it 
now rose straight and steady, higher and higher, and now 
sank quivering and waving in the breath of the perfume- 
laden breeze, that, springing down from the battlements of 
the terrace, brought with it a degree of freshness indicating 
its recent arrival from the hills of the Berber. 

It was a beautiful picture, that tesselated court, that marble 
fountain, that open-arched arabesque gallery, and those three 
maidens in their loveliness, grouped in unconstrained and 
graceful attitudes within. A beautiful picture, and well 
worthy the limning of a more expert pen than the one tl at 
now scarcely dares to indicate the outline. Had it suited 
the purposes of our story, or the truth, to have created some 
striking contrasts of person, character, sentiments, habits, 
or age — to have exaggerated slight differences, and wiih a 
free hand to have heightened the lights and darkened the 
shadows, the picture would have been much more easily 
preventable to the reader. A striking picture might not, 
perhaps, overtask our powers, but one of such quiet, harrno- 
n ous, uniform loveliness, requires a master hand. 

The evening had hardly closed in when a tap was heard at 
the rude square door opening into the street. Abdallah drew 
the bolts, admitting three hooded figures into the darkened 
skeffa. A few words passed between the kaid and the rais, 
when Abdallah in all haste proceeded to call the sisters. Ac- 
companied by Xaripha, they descended from the gallery and 
entered the outer court. The rais advanced a few steps, 
leaving his companions in the backgr Mind, and addressed in 
a low tore the sisters. Xaripha s aiu d wh^n she heard his 
voice, but the next inslani something in llie tone reassured 
her, and she turned away as if ashamed of her emotion. 
As she did so, one of the figures behind the rais called her 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


173 


attention by a gesture. It was enough — though his form was 
entirely enveloped in the djellabeah, and his features con- 
cealed by die hood, there was something that she instantly 
recognized in the wave of his hand. The figurestepped back 
into the skeffa. Xaripha obeyed the gesture, and found 
herself clasped in the arms of Edw’ard Carlyle. 

As the young man pressed the yielding form of the Moresca 
to his breast, a thrill of passion~so wild, so fierce, so madden- 
ing — passed through his heart, that for an instant he shuddered 
with tear. 

‘‘ I shall go mad!” he muttered, and then — 

‘•'Xaripha,” he whispered, making an effort to repress his 
emotion, and to recover his senses, which seemed about to 
leave him — “Xaripha — my life! my soul! — I’ve promised to 
make no effort to speak to you; see how I keep my word. 
Oh, you know not what I have suffered since I saw you! 
And now, in a moment we part!” 

“ But to meet again,” said Xaripha. 

“Yes, by Heaven, Xaripha!” exclaimed Edward, fiercely. 
“ Though all the Moors this side of the eternal flames stood 
in the way, we shall meet again! I will turn Moor myself, 
but we shall meet again! If needs be«, I will renounce 
family, country, religion — everything ! Ah, mi alma, mi queri- 
dito! you know not how I suffer when I and away from you.” 

“ But this time you will have company to cheer you — the 
Spanish sisters go with you.” 

There was lurking in Xaripha’s remark a slight feeling of 
jealousy, but Edward heeded it not, 

“No company,” he replied, passionately, “can cheer me 
in your absence. I know not how it is, Xaripha, but I feel 
toward you as I never thought myself capable of feeling to- 
ward woman. Strange! is it not? There is that Spanish 
maiden — she has mind, and soul, and surpassing beauty of 
form and face, but could she parch my lips and sere my eyes, 
make my frame tremble, and my brain whirl, and melt my 
heart into a red hot glowing mass — now weak and limpid as 
water, now heavy as lead ? Look at her as she stands thus 
beside my brother. He loves her — truly, deeply loves her; 
but think you that he feels as I do ? No! he has given her 
his heart; he has surrendered his fancy, and even, perhaps, 
his judgment; but he at least keeps his senses. But I, 
Xaripha — what have you left me?” 


174 


THE BERBER, 


“ All — everything!” replied Xaripha. “What you have 
given nie — what I am — all is yours!” 

A passionate embrace was the young man’s reply. 

Abdallah and the rais, accompanied by the sisters, and 
followed by Selim, entered the skeffa. Opening the door, 
and finding that no one was in sight, Abdallah led the party 
into the street, leaving Xaripha to secure the door. Enjoin- 
ing silence in a low whisper, the kaid conducted the party 
through several narrow and crooked streets. 

A few paces from the door of the kaid’s house, the group 
passed a figure enveloped in a haick, apparently asleep upon 
the ground. The sight, however, was too common to excite 
any suspicion, and the kaid passed on without noticing that, 
when they had advanced a little distance, the figure sprang 
to his feet, and kept them in view. 

Xaripha fastened the door, and ascended the staircase to 
the gallery. The next instant Fatima moved rapidly from 
the inner court, and entering the hall, cautiously oper.ed the 
door and passed into the street. Her master and his party 
had not gone so far but that she could distinguish their 
moving figures, and without hesitation .she waddled on in 
pursuit. 

The kaid paused in front of a low, square door, and pull- 
ing a wooden key from his girdle, applied it to the lock. As 
the door closed upon the party, Fatima gave a grunt of satis- 
faction, and turning, made her way rapidly back to the 
house. The hooded figure advanced to the door — paused for 
a moment — noted the neighboring buildings — applied his ear 
to the keyhole, and then, to mark the house beyond all possi- 
bility of mistake, picked up a small piece of stone and 
deposited it at the base of the wall by the door. 

Within, the house was an exact counterpart of a thousand 
other second-class houses in Mequinez. Long, narrow rooms, 
lighted only by lofty doors, surrounded an oblong paved 
space, which was divided into two courts by a wall pierced 
with arches. Had the house been of two stories, these 
arches would have supported a gallery. Like many of its 
kind, it had been for a long time uninhabited, and the rooms 
were somewhat dilapidated — the tendency to rapid decay, 
arising from the weakness of the tapia walls, and the enor- 
mous weight of the terraces, being a characteristic of all 
Moorish dwellings. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


^75 


A mattress of wool, two or three thick rugs, and a pile of 
cushions, composed the furniture of one of the rooms opening 
upon the inner court. A coi responding room of the outer 
court was selected for Edward ; and Selim was despatched for 
the thick Rabat rug that strvtd for his couch. As may be 
supposed, the maidens w^ere well pleased with the arrange- 
ment by which a companion, and in some sort a protector 
was secured to them. With the young Englishman within 
call, their situation was such an imprcvement upon their late 
solitary residence, that they felt that for a time at least they 
could make themselves quite content with their lot. 

Abdallah and Has^an retired, but soon returned, bearing a 
provision of fruits, bread and baked meats, sufficient to pre- 
vent all necessity for opening the street door for several days. 
With many cautions against exposing themselves on the ter- 
race to a view from the turrets of the houses, or from the 
minarets of the mosques, Hassan took a reluctant leave, -and 
withdrew for the night with the kaid. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Of the four or five thousand women, who, in^the course of 
his long reign, were admitted to the honors of Muley Ismael’s 
seraglio, no one ever acquired or maintained the influence 
over his mind that was enjoyed by Leila Ajakah; and that 
not by her personal charms, or through the monarch’s affec- 
tions. Other women ministered to his passions, and were 
then sent to the Tefilet, where the Sultan kept an asylum for 
his repudiated wives and cast-off mistresses; but Leila Ajakah 
ever retained her place as sultana sidana, or Sultana Queen, 
in the harem at Mequinez. 

She was old, fat, ugly, and a negress, with all the charac- 
teristics of her race in form and feature strongly marked. 
Without education of any kind, she possessed great natural 
shrewdness, strong passions, indomitable energy, and an am- 
bition that stopped at nothing that could conduce to the 
preservation of her own power, and the elevation of her son 
Sidan to the throne. 

For many years the chief object of her jealousy had been 


176 


THE BERDER. 


a favorite son of Muley Ismael, by a beautiful Georgian slave 
who had been brought up in the Christian religion. The son 
partook of his mother’s beauty, and soon engrossed so much 
of his father’s alfection that he alone had a royal education 
given him, wdiile the Sultan’s other sons were consigned to the 
most profound ignorance. But it was this partiality of the 
doting father that occasioned the ruin of the young Moham- 
med’s mother, and ultimately of hanself. A fahe^ccusation 
of infidelity w^as contrived by the Sultana Sidana, and in the 
first fit of passion, the fair Georgian was ordered by the jeal- 
ous tyrant to death. Her innocence was established w^hen it 
was too late, but such was the influence of Leila Ajakah, 
that the Sultan, instead of punishing the author of the accu- 
sation, overlooked the imposition which had been practised 
upon him, and contented himself with various public de- 
monstrations of regret at his credulity and precipitancy, and 
reiK^wed manifestations of an increasing fondness for his fa- 
vorite son. 

The continued intrigues of the vindictive and jealous queen 
convinced the Sultan that the life of his favorite w^ould not 
be longer safe at court, so giving him a sum, a hundred weight 
of silver, he dispatched him to Tefilet, with orders tot ke 
upon him the superintendance of the imperial seraglio in that 
town. Here a quarrel soon broke out between Mohammed 
and another son of the Sultan, named Maimon, who had been 
appointed governor of the province. A bloody rencontre in 
the streets of Tefilet was the consequence, and both w^ere 
ordered to the court in chains. Upon appearing prostrate 
before him, Muley Ismael addressed them with a scornful 
smile, and in w^ords that have teen literally preserved by the 
historians of the time: 

‘^Good morning! good morning!” exclaimed the grinning 
tyrant. How do you both do ? I am heartily glad to see 
that you are still both alive, and that neither of you hath lost 
his life in your last bloody engagement. I easily perceive 
either that you think yourselves to be without a father, or 
forget that I am he. You appear, indeed, as meek as lambs 
before me; but out of my sight you are worse than roaring 
lions. If, while I am still alive, you have the boldness to take 
up arms against each other, what will you do when I am dead ? 
Let me therefore bear, without disguise, the occasion of this 
quarrel of yours, that I may apply a speedy remedy to it.” 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


177 


Upon this invitation the brothers arose and pleaded their 
cause before the Sultan. The testimony of the Sultan’s 
brothers was introduced, by which it was established that 
Maimom, a prcfiigate and debauched fellow, was in the 
wrong, and he was sentenced to confinement in the castle of 
Zczami. 

‘‘I obey 1” exclaimed Maimom, sulkily. I care nought 
for the confinement, but it grieves me that that Christian,” 
pointing to Mohammed, ‘‘should get the better of a true 
believer.” 

This insulting allusion to the religion of Mohammed’s 
mother occasioned a fresh outbreak, and from words the 
enraged brothers proceeded to blows. The indignant and 
passionate father ordered that scimiiars should be given them 
and that they should fight it out on the spot; but at the 
request of some of the bolder courtiers, he consented to sub- 
stiiute cudgels for swords. The infuriated brothers needed 
no further encouragement, but seizing the clubs, belabored 
each other until they were covered with blood. 

The Sultan at last ordered them to desist, but Mohammed, 
without heeding the command, continued the blows where- 
upon the Sultan, in a rage, seized the cudgel of Maimom and 
struck Mohammed with it. This was adding fuel to fire, and 
Mohammed’s passion bursting all bounds, he rushed by the 
Sultan, seized Maimon by the throat, dashed him to the 
ground, and stamped upon him. Muley Ismael leveled his 
spear, and was about to pierce his disobedient favorite, but, 
suddenly checking himself, he merely struck him a slight 
blow with it, and then bitterly upbraided him with his Chris- 
tian blood. 

‘“Go!” he exclai»med; “you are no Moor; the blood of 
the Nazarene speaks in your actions. Depart from my sight. 
Go, eat swine’s flesh with the unbelievers.’’ 

’Twas but for a few days, however, that Mohammed re- 
mained in disgrace. The tenderness of the father triumphed 
over the anger of the Sultan, and he was appointed to the 
government of Montegara, which he administered in quiet 
for five years. 

A sedition having been excited in Soos, the most import- 
ant and populous province 111 tne who.e empiie, Mohanuiied 
was ordered by his father to go and take upon himself the 
government. He eagerly accepted the appointment, and so 


178 


THE BERBER, 


happily directed were his admin straiive efforts that the dis- 
quieted province was speedily reduced to peace. This new 
preferment, and the success attending his measures, aroused 
anew the jealousy of the Sultana Sidana, and numerous in- 
trigues were set on foot for his destruction. Among other 
devices the Sultana caused a forged letter from the Sultan to 
be sent to Mohammed, ordering him to put to death a ven- 
erable sheik whom the Sultan highly esteemed. He obeyed, 
and dispatched the same courier back with the news of the 
sheik's death. The rage of Muley Ismael was heighiened by 
the appearance of the sheik’s sons, who came to lay their 
complaints before him; and Mohammed was ordered to re- 
pair wdth all speed to court. Mohammed obeyed, and upon 
reaching the palace he found his father awaiting him, sur- 
rounded with the sheik’s sons, in tears. 

^^Are you Shtreef ?” screamed the monarch, in a tone of 
fury. 

In an instant Mohammed divined his danger, and from the 
presence of the sheik’s sons, the cause of the Sultan’s wrath. 

‘•Thou knrwest whether I am or not,” he replied. “I have 
only executed thy commands, and here they are under thy 
hand and seal.” 

The Sultan took the letter, read it, and, without saying a 
word, mounted his horse, and set out at all speed for the ha- 
rem. “The days of Leila Ajakah are numbered,” thought 
tue courtiers; but they were mistaken; the influence of the 
old negress survived the tempest of imperial wrath. Upon 
some specious pretence, she contrived to appease the Sultan’s 
resentment, and he contented himself with distributing 
money to the orphans, and sending them and his son back 
to Soos. 

Although failing in this attempt, Leila Ajakah continued 
her intrigues against the life of Mohammed, until at last the 
young prince was fairly driven into rebellion. He seized a 
large treasure coming from Soudan, persuaded the imperial 
guards to follow him, and, retiring to his province of Soos, 
set up the standard of revolt — sending a letter to his father, 
reproaching him for the influence that heallow^ed the Sultana 
over his mind, and expressing his determination never agnn 
to visit a court where he could not rely upon the power of 
his own father to protect him fioiii the uiacliiiiaLiL-ns of Ltiia 
Ajakah and her brutal son Sidan. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


179 


Goaded by the malicious representations of the Sultana 
into fury, the Sultan was at first disposed to give up a pro- 
jected expedition against the Algerines, for which he had 
collected an army of sixty thousand men, and to set out at 
once against his rebellious favorite. But at length he con- 
cluded to delay his vengeance until the Algerine question was 
settled, which it finally was by the complete rout of his troops 
by a greatly inferior force. This defeat, however, did' not 
long prevent the collection of a large body of men, who were 
dispatched against the rebellious prince, under the command 
of his rival Sidan. 

It is not necessary to give the details of the campaign, 
which, after a variety of good and ill fortune, resulted in the 
capture of Mohammed, who, as we have mentioned in another 
chapter, was brought before his father, and, with the most 
barbarous ceremony and parade, mutilated in such a manner 
as to cause his death in a few days. 

Leila Ajakah rejoiced in the success of her long pursued 
plans for the elevation of her son Sidan to the throne, bht 
she saw, with some alarm, that her efforts to clear his path 
had for the time somewhat weakened her influence with the 
Sultan. She had, however, too much tact to do anything that 
could further endanger it, and she did not therefore set herself 
as strongly as she otherwise would have done against a sudden 
and violent passion which the Sultan conceived for a beautiful 
Irish girl, who, captured by the corsairs of Algiers, had been 
sent as a present to him from the Bey. Anx ous to preserve 
her supremacy in the harem, and no longer fearing a riv^-l 
for her son, she at first looked upon this fancy of the Suita* 
without jealousy, trusting that, as in hundreds of other cases, 
it would be short-lived, and that the new favorite would have 
neither the power nor the will to establish an influence adverse 
to hers. But when the affection of the Sultan appeared 10 
increase with time, and when the birth of a son to his old 
age occurred, to rivet his doting passion for the mother; and 
more especially when the mother, secure of her power over 
the Sultan, had begun to exhibit a tendency to encourage a 
rival faction in the harem, the jealousy of Leila Ajakah was 
arouse(.t, and the destrucLion of the new favorite was resolved 
upon. Bdc liovV to effect it — ic would be unsafe to use poison 
or the knife; for the Sul an, perceiving the symptoms of 
jealousy, had intimated his intention (in case any violence v/as 


t8o 


THE BERBER, 


done to his favorite) of strangling .every female in the harem. 
There could be no doubt that he -would keep his word. A 
charge of infidelity had been tried with varying success in too 
many cases to admit of its being used again. There was no 
hope except in diverting the affections of the Sultan into a new 
channel. To do this, it was nece^sary to find some one with 
a degree of personal beauty that would attract the Sultan’s 
notice, and strike his fancy — some one with charms surpassing 
those of the Irish favorite; and this, Leila Ajakah acknowl- 
edged to herself, it was almost hopeless to attempt. The 
perquisitions, however, of the Sultana were pursued with un- 
remitting assiduity, and numberless trials of new faces were 
made, but without effect; while each day the state of affairs 
within the harem grew more and more threatening. Open 
warfare seeemed inevitable, and the Sultana trembled when 
she thought that the fate to which she had consigned so many 
of her ri\/als — confinement in the old Tefilet seraglio on the 
b( rders of the desert — might yet be her lot. 

It was in this frame of mind that the Sultana, on the day 
af er the events mentioned in the last chapter, seated herself 
upon a low divan, just within an arched passage opening into 
a small square court. This court was in no way different 
from hundreds of others within the precincts of the palace, 
except, perhaps, that the tessellated pavement was more 
curiously laid, and the silken hangings of the arches leading 
to the rooms, of a more costly pattern and workmanship. 
In the centre of the court, a fountain threw up a slender 
column of perfumed water. 

Leila Ajakah lolled in an indolent attitude upon the broad 
divan. This apparent dolce far niente^ however, was belied by 
an expression of anxie'y and thought, that spread itself over 
her coarse negro features. The day was warm, and the dress 
of the Sultana corresponded to the weather. It consisted of 
nothing but a pair of green morocco slippers, and a single 
loose garment of linen, without sleeves, cut low in the neck, 
and of somewhat scanty proportions as to length. But as if to 
make amends for anv deficiency of clothing, rings, necklaces, 
bracelets aid anklets, studded with diamonds and rubies, 
lo ded her bare breast and limbs. Several female attendants, 
bidl moie liehtly liibited, but all decked w'lhgoKl and jewels, 
were aroui.d h^r. 

The wicket in the large folding-door leading to the passage 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


l8l 


was thrown open, and there waddled in a negress, nearly as 
large and quite as ugly as the Queen herself. Without cere- 
mony the newcomer advanced, bearing a small bundle, which 
she placed at the feet of the Sultana. Muttering the usual 
expressions of compliment, she kneeled, and, untying the 
parcel, displayed several articles of apparel — a fine white 
haick, a few yards of linen, and two or three little papers of 
spices and tea. 

The present was not of much value, but it was sufficient 
to comply with the Moorish custom, which requires that an 
inferior should never seek an interview with a superior empty- 
handed. 

‘‘Yah! yah!” muttered the kneeling negress. “’Tis a 
small thing to present to thesadina; but I have something to 
say of more value. Yah! 1 leii the sadina something she 
like to hear. Yah! yah!” 

The Sultana had watched with a careless glance the move- 
ments of the negress, but at her last words she started with 
an air of interest, and held out her hand. 

“Fatima Laboo!”she exclaimed. “My old friend, it 
would do my eyes good to see you, even if your hands were 
empty. D.d we not cross the desert together?” 

‘•Yah! yah!” exclaimed Fatima. “We cross Sahara to- 
gether, but then we go different ways. Yah! you make Sul- 
tana sidana. I make slave to Abdallah. Yah! yah! 

“ Yes,” replied Leila; “but I do not forget old friends. 
You have some favor to ask of me; speak boldly.” 

“ No, no;. I got no favor to askj but I got something to 
tell. Yah; yah! I know what you want — everybody 
know.” 

“ Fatima leaned forward and whispered in a low tone: 

Sidana want to eat the heart of the Nazarene.” 

The Sultana distorted her mouth into a hideous grin, but 
made no reply. 

“Yah! Yah!” continued Fatima, wagging her head. “I 
know the way — sidana shall have .it. Look, her heart is in 
my hand! I put it into sidana’s.” 

The queen made a gesture of silence, and then rising, she 
took Fatima by the arm, and drew her into a small, dark 
room. When beyond the reach of the ears of her women, 
she eagerly demanded an explanation of her words. 

With sundry waggings of the head and contortions of the 


i 82 


THE BERBER, 


body, and numerous exclamations of Yah! yah!*’ inter- 
mingled with adjurations of Allah and Obi, Fatima went on 
to say that the desire of the Sultana to find some one who 
could be brought forward as a rival to the present favorite of 
the Sultan was well known ; and that, out of friendship for her 
old acquaintance, countrywoman and fellow-slave, she had 
come to announce that such a rival could be found. 

“’Tis idle to talk of it.’’ interrupted Leila, fiercely. ‘‘ Our 
lord the Sultan hates the beauties of this land. Eblis blinds 
his eyes, and he can find nothing to please him but among 
the damsels of the Kaffirs. May the curse of the Prophet 
light upon them!’’ 

‘^Yah! yah! — that is it. This one is a Nazarene; and, oh! 
how beautiful!” 

‘‘Christian, do you say? — Of what nation?” 

“ A Christian and a Spaniard.” 

‘‘And beautiful?’’ 

“Yah! yah! 1 ke the stars — like the moon. She is not 
very fat now; but you shut her up for a few days, and make 
her drink plenty milk, and eat plenty eooscoosoo, she grow 
fat very soon. Y^ah ! yah ! She grow fat enough.” 

A few words sufficed to explain the story of Isabel, so far 
as Fatima had heard it or could guess it; and so occupied 
was the old woman’s mind with the image of the elder sis- 
ter, that she quite forgot the existence of Juanita. 

The conference between the two friends lasted but a short 
time. The Sultana was to impatient for action to await the 
tedious circumlocutions of Fatima; and as soon as she had 
gathered the main facts in relation to the case, she put her 
head out of the door, and made a signal to a confidential 
female slave. 

“ Call Had] Hallioud,” she exclaimed. “ Tell him I must 
see him instantly.” 

Tne slave departed, and in a few moments, in obedience to 
the summons, Kaid Hadj Hallioud, chief eunuch of the harem, 
a monstrous negro, almost sinking under the weight of fat 
that loaded his frame, made his appearance. 

In former days Kaid Hallioud and the Sultana had been 
rival powers in the harem, and long and bitter was the struggle 
for supremacy. The superior genius of Leila, however, at 
last triumphed; and the kaid was fain to acknowledge himself 
vanquished, and to beg for mercy, upon thepromi^^e of strict 
obedience to her will. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


1S3 

Peace to Sultana sidana, and may Goct preserve the 
life of her lord the Sultan!” exclaimed the kaid, in a broken, 
wheezing voice, and with a twinkle of his small eyes, half 
malicious and cunning, and half foolish and stupid. ‘‘What 
is the will of the' Sultana ? Whose head is too high ? Tell 
me, and I will lower it. Whose neck is too stiff? I have a 
twisted sash that will bend it. Whose back is too straight? 
I have a Jilela that will bow it.” 

There was a good deal of the natural dignity of strong 
genius and character, and some of that elevation that fre 
quently arises from the exercise of power, in the manner of 
the Sultana, when her passions were not aroused. She replied 
to the complimentary proffers of the kaid with a gesture of 
impatience and a smile of contempt. 

Advancing toward hhn with a grave face, she laid her 
hand upon his arm. ‘‘Have a guard ready to-night, and 
when it is quite dark, go to the house that stands nearest 
to the Bab el Gharb. Enter it, and you will find a maiden 
of the Nazarene.'. Bring her here to me. Do you under- 
stand me ?” 

The kaid uttered a sigh of assent. 

“On your head be it — lam in earnest — on y ur head it 
shall be. And,' mark you, be careful of the maiden; bring 
her hither, but treat her with all tenderness.” 

The kaid promised implicit obedience, and, with the 
usual complimentary expressions, departed. 

“Yah! yah!” exclaimed Fatima, as she took her leave, 
and, under the guidance of the slave who had admitted her, 
wended her way through the labyrinth of courts and passages 
to the palace gate. “Yah! yah! I guess I put her now 
where she won’t trouble little ’Ripha any more. Oh! Xari- 
phasaghira! 1 love you much — more than you do yourself. 
You wouldn’t let me kill her, but I do just as well. He no 
kiss her any more — he come back to little 'Ripha. if he 
don’t — ha! I do something then! Yah! yah! I give him 
Obi dish — I guess so. Yah! yah!” 


184 


THE BERBER, 




CHAPTER XXIV. 

It was just as the sun was sinking below the horizon, that 
a horseman emerged from the lentisch groves covering the 
bides of a range of small hills forming the eastern boundary 
of the level and beautiful plain of Mequinez. A djellabeah 
completely enveloped his person, except that from his knee 
down, a well-formed muscular leg was, according to the cus- 
tom of the country, entirely bare. The hood of the djella- 
beah drawn far over the head, concealed not only the features, 
but rendered it impossible to tell whether beneath was the 
closely-cut hair and turban of the Moor, the black skull cap 
of the Jew, or the long locks of the mountaineer. There 
was, however, something in the lithe grace with which the 
rider sat in his saddle; something in the light springy air of 
his figure, revealing itself in despite of his coarse woolen gar- 
ment, that, had the reader been present, would have suffi- 
ciently indicated the name and character of the stranger. 

The horse, too, the reader will readily recognize. He was 
a tall black barb, but inasmuch as we shall have occasion to 
dwell upon his points more particularly hereafter, we will not 
stop to describe him now. With slow and lazy step the 
animal, left by his rider entirely to himself, made his way 
among the low palmetto bushes, and entered upon the plain. 

The plain, or small prairie, was one of a series, all, evi- 
dently, the beds of extinct lakes, which, commencing in El 
Garb, the must northern province of Morocco, stretch, with 
various interruptions from the spurs of the great mountain 
range to the borders of the Sahara. To the north the regu- 
larly serrated hills of Marmora were now cleathy visible; to 
the east, as we have said, was the -range of low hills from 
which the horseman had just descended, and peering above 
them, in the distance, were the lofty snow-covered summits 
of the far-famed Atlas; while to the south and west the yiew 
was uninterrupted until the eye rested upon the minarets and 
domes of Mequinez. 

The sun had now sunk beneath the clear and distant hori- 
zon which bounded the plain to the west, relieving the 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


185 

parched earth from its overpowering influence, and leaving 
the short but delicious twilight to illuminate the scene. Not 
a cloud was visible that could receive and reflect the linger- 
ing glories of the setting sun, but mantling over the whole face 
of heaven, a delicious crimson blush mingled itself for a mo- 
ment with the clear deep blue through which the stars were 
shining brightly, then fleetingly disappt ared. The gray haze 
of evening began to settle on d stant objects, not obscuring, 
but magnifying and exhibiting theiroutlines with tenfold dis- 
tinctness. A solitary fig-tree on the farthest verge of the'> 
horizon could be plainly seen, throwing its gnarled and 
knotted branches in clear relief against the sky. 

Suddenly starting from his leverie, the horseman threw 
back the foi ls of his djellabeah. Then gathering up the 
bridle, and affectionattly patting the neck of his steed, he 
exclaimed, ‘‘ Come, come, good Boroon, we have been loiter- 
ing long enough; it is getting so dark that no one can ob- 
serve our haste now, and we have a good long hour’s gallop 
before us. Come! Look out for the lizard holes, and let 
us be moving, Ladah el heil ! Ladah el heil ! 

In an instant the gallant animal, all spirit* and animation 
at the sound of his master’s voice, uttering the well-known 
encouraging cry of the Moorish horsemen, w'as off at full speed 
acrcss the level ground, in the direction of the towers and 
domes we have mentioned, but which were now no longer in 
sight. No light remained to guide the flying steed; still his 
pace was non checked ; on he sped, passing bushes and gulleys 
with a celerity and safety betokening marvelous powers of 
vision in either rider or horse, or, perhaps, in both. For 
nearly an hour the generous animal was kept, by the en- 
couraging conversation of his master, at the lop of his speed. 

Haste! Haste! Child of Hassaneh! son of the beautiful! 
well done, my brave Boroon,” he exclaimed, as his steed 
cleared a small water gulley. ‘^Bravely done! jewel of my 
heart. I saw it not; but you — oh, you Boroon, are the light 
of my eyes. Your sight is as keen as a hawk’s. Your feet are 
the wdngs of an eagle. What would become of me were I to 
lose thee, my be?«.uty, my pearl, my love ? 

Fly! fly! my brave Boroon,” continued the hcr-eman, 
after a short pause. ’Tis in her service, O son of El Has- 
saneh, and verily thou shalt have thy reward. Her soft 
hands shall caress thee — her soft voice shall say, ‘ Boroon ! 


i86 


THE BERBER, 


good Boroon! brave Boroon!’ — her breath shall lie on thy 
nostrils sweeter than zephyr from the clover fields of Du- 
quela — her form shall press thee, her arm shall guide thee. 
Yes! I swear it, by all the saints! you shall stretch your legs 
beneath the light weight of the flower of Andalusia!” 

Suddenly drawing rein, the rider checked his horse and 
sprang from his back beside a fig-tree, which accident had 
probably planted upon the spot. Looking carefully under 
and around the tree, he struck a short, sharp blow with the 
fingers of his right hand in the palm of his left, and waited a 
few moments for an answer. 

‘^He has not arrived yet,” said he, in a tone betraying 
some little vexation. “We must even wait, good Boroon. 
I hope that he will not disappoint us entirely.’^ 

Thus saying, he tock the bridle off his horse and led him 
a short distance from the tree. Here he threw himself upon 
the ■ ground behind some furze, artd at a word Boroon 
stretched himself out beside him. Both were thus as con - 
pletely concealed as they could have been in the tallest 
thicket. A small bag of dates, shared equally between mas- 
ter and horse, ‘served to occupy the short half hour they had 
to wait. 

Of this brief interval we might avail ourselves, a’^cording 
to the usual privilege of novelists, to spin a chapter out of 
the crowd of thoughts and sentiments that occupied the 
young man’s mind. But, although the time favors^ our 
space will hardly permit, and we must leave the reader, fnere- 
fore, to infer the general tenor of the current from a few 
muttered exclamations. 

“ By heavens!” he said, “ can I but stir up the Shelloohs 
to open the war, I care not if they will not j* »in their arms to 
mine — ’twill serve for a d version. And, then, if I can rally 
our Berber tribes — aye, if — Now, curses on these blood feuds! 
Ltt me get the upper hand once, and I wih crush the jarring 
and diverse elements of our nationality together with a strong 
arm. But now! — prudence, caution ; s-rttling disputes here, 
patching up a peace there — tying up a bundle of faggots to- 
day, that to-morrow wijl be riven and in aflame! But all 
could be done if I only had tools to woik with. Oh, if I had 
half a dozen men with the spirit of the Gaditana! How her 
eyes glowed when I spoke of rescuing this land from the 
Moors! By heavens — it shall be done! She is worthy of an 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


187 

empire — and I will offer her one, What a Queen she will 
make! She must be mine,” added the speaker, after a pause. 
“ Yes, even if nothing but the chieftainess of the Beni Mo- 
zargl — Her presence would be worth a century of civiliza- 
tion. But away such thoughts P’ he exclaimed, vehemently; 
‘‘ I will not think of failing. Mine is the mission to nation- 
alize the Berber race, and lead them on, through empire, to 
civilization — and by all the Prophets! she shall aid me — she 
shall share my success!” 

The mutterings of the Berber were cut short by the ap- 
proach of a person mounted upon an ass, as was evinced by 
the patter of the animahs hoofs on the sod, and the encou- 
raging rub-a-dub kept up on his^ ribs by the heels of his 
rider. 

Suddenly stepping from the concealment of the bush, the 
horseman saluted the new-comer with a tap on the shoulder, 
exclaiming, ‘‘You are behind your time, good Yacob.” 

The person so saluted was enveloped in a large black 
sulham or gaberdine, which, without the name pronounced 
by his companion, was sufficient to indicate his Jewish caste. 

“ Come, don’t be frightened, Yacob; there is no one here 
but ourselves,” continued the Berber, as the Jew started at 
the sudden salutati >n. 

“Holy Father Abraham!” exclaimed Yacob, recovering 
his breath, “Casbinel Subah! How could you startle me so? 
You know the risk I run to meet you here, and — ” 

“True, good Yacob, I should have been more considerate. 
I should have recollected that you are no lion-killer, and — ” 

“Nay, accuse me not of cowardice, because, unlike you, I 
prefer a quiet dish of cooscoosoo to a wild boar hunt, or a 
fight with a lion single-handed ; or because I cannot hear a 
musket fired in my ear without starting. Here have I, the 
chief treasurer of the Sultan of Morocco, come to meet my 
patron at the imminent risk of life. Dost thou suppose that 
Muley Ismael, if he knew it, would be satisfied with anything 
less than my head ?’’ 

“ I did thee wrong, good Yacob, and am sorry for it; but 
tell me, what news from the city — hast kept thy eye on the 
kaid of the slaves, as I directed?” 

“I have; and much I fear the son of Sheitan has evil in 
his head.” 


i88 


THE BERBER, 


I doubt it not; but what is this plan for thwarting and 
nunishing him that you have to suggest ?” 

Have you brought the necklace that I mentioned?” de- 
manded the Jew. , 

I have,” said the Berber; here it is;” and he produced 
a casket containing a string of small pearls. 

Yacob took the box in his hand, opened it, and felt the 
pearls for a moment in silence. 

‘^The same!” he exclaimed. ^‘I could tell it in the dark- 
est night by the clumsy and heavy setting. And you will not 
begrudge this trinket,” demanded Yacob, /‘to secure the 
punishment of the kaid?” 

“Were it of ten times the value it is, I would give it readi- 
ly to avoid the necessity of dealing with the kaid myself,” 
said the Berber. “You know, Yacob, the reasons I have for 
avoiding any tumult just at this moment; otherwise I would 
carry the worthless hound out of the city by force, and 
scourge him to death with the ^/e/a that he is so fond of ap- 
plying to the backs of the Christians.” 

“Well, trust me,” exclaimed Yacob; “with this necklace 
I will make him jump into a pit of his own digging. You 
shall judge of my plan. The kaid, you know, is a saint, and 
one of the chief titles to the honor is his weekly miracle 
of journeying to Mecca every Friday; the Sultan affects to 
believe in the fellow’s pretensions; but it would delight Muley 
Ismael much to catch him in his villainy. Now, Ishallshow 
this necklace to the Sultan — it is of too little value to excite 
his cupidity, but the oddness of the setting will attract his 
attention — and I shall then suggest that he ask the kaid to 
bring him a pearl necklace from the Holy City at his 
next visit. The kaid will come directly to me. He has 
robbed me many times of things twice their value. I will be 
prepared for him this time. I shall give him this, and he* 
will present it to the Sultan as the result of his pretended 
journey. Lucky will the villain be if he escapes having every 
bone in his body broken on. the spot. 

“ ’Tis asplot worthy of your subtle genius,” said the Berber. 
“I cannot say that I approve of it, and yet I will not forbid 
it. But what if it should fail?” Y 

“Never fear,’' replied the Jew; “I will answer for its 
success with my head. I shall see the Sultan this very 
night, and shall take him an account tT the conversion into 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


189 


coin of the jewels of the Bashaw of Tlemcen — the amount 
will please him. Tp-morrow is Friday, and it is during the 
hours from Ed-doiihour to El-assar that the kaid makes his 
journey; trust me, before to-morrow’s sun set, the kaid will 
have thrown himself over the wall of the Sultan’s favor. Let 
him cease to be kaid of the slaves, and for a time, at least, 
he is powerless.” 

For some time longer patron and client remained talking; 
but we have given enoagh of their conversation to indicate 
the principal object of their consultation, and the only one 
with which our story has anything directly to do. 

‘‘And now, good Yacob, it is time for us to separate. I 
must away for the tribes of the Beni Gurin ; I have received 
word that an expedition is ready to renew the old feuds 
with their neighbors of the Yeder. Some paltry, wordy in- 
sult! — curses on these miserable jealousies! It will be a hard 
ride, there and back; but I shall make short woik with the 
revengeful fools — and Boroon is fresh. I shall be in the city 
to-morrow night. The 7nillah will be closed; but if it were 
not, it would not do for us to be seen in communication: so 
how shall I know that your scheme has been successful? — 
But it matters not,” continued the Berber, after a pause. “If 
the imperial frown light on the kaid, the whole city will be 
filled with the news.” 

A few more words, and the Jew seized his patron’s 1 and 
and covered it with kisses. With many expressions of affec- 
tion, uttered in a tone which indicated that they were not 
the words of mere compliment, he took his leave, mounting 
his ass, and set out for the city. 

^^Ajee! ajee! Boroon!” cried the young man; and the 
black barb sprang up from his couch, where he had quietly 
awaited the conclusion of the conference, and trotted up to 
his master. 

The young man adjusted the girth, and then, without touch- 
ing the short stirrups, vaulted lightly into the saddle. “You 
must fly to-night, my brave Boroon; you must use both eyes 
and feet! Forward! in the name of God, Boroon, and — 
and sjjall I t<Il you, Boroon? — shall I whisper it to you ? — I 
will. It will put strength in your limbs and courage in your 
heart. Forward! in her name — in the name of the Anda- 
luza! — in the name of Juanita!” 

Like the ground sweep of a raven, Boroon’s black flying 


190 


THE BERBER, 


form skimmed the parched earth — leaping ravines and 
gulleys; scattering the dry furze ^nd thistles; or dashing up 
the pebbles from the parched water- courses. 

The loud yelping of packs of dogs rose from the distant 
douahs; swelled into a furious chorus as the rider ap- 
proached, and died away again as the hoofs of Buroon no 
longer challenged their aitention. Their frightened masters 
muttered their prayers the while for preservation from the 
djin who was thundering by their tents. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Friday is the Mohammedan Sabbath. During two or three 
hours in the middle of the day, when the people repair to 
the mosques, the gates of the cities are closed. This custom 
originates, it is said, in some ancient prediction that the 
country will be attacked by the Christians on Friday, and its 
cities surprised while the inhabitants are engaged at their 
devotions. After the religious services, the ga’es are thrown 
open, the citizens resume their usual avocations, and there 
are left no indications that the day is considered especially 
holy. 

Upon the Friday following the interview of patron and 
client in the last chapter, the Sultan rode in state to the 
principal mosque, accompanied by all his court. As an es- 
pecial honor, Don Oisolo was assigned a position next to, 
and a little in the rear of, the monarch. A negro slave, who 
had been presented to him by the Sultan, following him,' \ 
bearing his pra}ing carpet. Don Diego was mounted uponi 
a fine horse, also a present, but which he knew that he would 
be expected in time to pay for in return presents of three 
times its value. 

The countenance of the renegade bore strong indications of 
anxiety. Flis position close to the Sultan’s person, and within 
reach of the imperial scimetar, was well known to be a danger- 
ous one. The monarch was, for the moment, in good humor ; at 
least such were the indications afforded by his dress, which 
throughout w^as of white. He w^as also mounted upon a white 
horse, and the sign w^as hailed by the courtiers with many 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


I9I 

expressions of pleasure and delight. But notwithstanding no 
threatening yellow or red appeared in his garments, and the 
color of his horse promised a quiet and peaceable day, there 
was no knowing at what instant, or by what cause, the imperial 
wrath might be aroused — and then woe to the unlucky cour- 
tier who might happen to be within reach! a look, a gesture, 
a breath was enough, frequently, to ensure a terrible death. 
Another cause of anxiety to the renegade was a doubt as to 
the purposes of his associate, the kaid of the slaves. He knew 
that it was to the kaid he was indebted for a position in the 
Sultan’s train; and the suspicion grew strong within him that 
he had been so placed in order to prevent any interference 
with the plans for the capture of the sisters. He doubted not 
that the kaid had already found, or could easily find, some 
clue to the retreat of the maidens, and he trembled lest, 
through the treachery of the negro, he should be balked of 
both love and revenge. Don Diego anxiously scanned the 
prancing groups of Moors and negroes, but the kaid was no- 
where to be seen. His convictions grew in certainty as the 
absence of the kaid became apparent, and he bitterly cursed 
the necessity that compelled him to await a permission to re- 
tire from the presence of a capricious Sultan. 

Upon leaving the mosque, the Sultan, with his train, passed 
on to a gate which opened into a wide road, separating the 
negro town, or the quarters of his black troops, from the city. 
This town occupied an area nearly as large as Mequinez, and 
was composed of a collection of houses, thatched huts and 
tents, intermingled in great confusion, and capable of shel- 
tering forty thousand men. 

The troops were not all present — some ten thousand of 
them being scattered throughout the country in small bands, 
ostensibly to protect the Arabic herdsmen from the mount- 
aineers, but in reality to collect their own pay, in the shape 
of plunder, from the defenceless douahs. About thirty thou- 
sand were in camp, consisting mainly of slaves brought across 
the desert from Soudan. The remainder were the descend- 
ants of negroes who had been introduced into the country in 
the days of Muley Moloch, who, making a military excursion 
to Timbuctoo, was the first to organize a corps of black 
soldiers. 

Licentious, savage, reckless — paying themselves mostly by 
plunder of the people, and consequently detested by the Moors 


192 


THE BERBER, 


— these troops formed the chief dependence of the tyrant. 
His Moorish soldiers he dared not trust; and, although he 
knew that the blacks felt no particular attachment to his 
person, yet it was their interest to serve him faithfully, and 
he felt that he could count upon the instincts of self. Nothing 
delighted the jealous old tyrant more than to visit the camp; 
and upon the present occasion he was all complaisance and 
good nature. He threw himself from his horse; seated him- 
self upon a carpet, at the foot of an aged olive tree, and re- 
ceived with great graciousness the kaids and other officers of 
the various corps. Two or three hours passed, during which 
Don Diego was compelled to remain a silent but impatient 
spectator of the ceremony. 

At length the Sultan mounted his horse, and set out on his 
return. The instant his leg crossed the saddle the expres- 
sion of his face underwent a sudden change. The old cour- 
tiers, who noticed the peculiar sparkle of the imperial eye, 
and the nervous retraction of the lips, knew that some unfor- 
tunate would have to pay, with broken bones at least, for 
the few hours of good humor in which the Sultan had in- 
dulged. 

Moodily Muley Ismael moved down the wide lane between 
the camp and the city, until he arrived at the gate opening 
through the first line of triple walls then surrounding 
Mequinez. Here he paused. A battery of artillery com- 
menced firing a salute, and a crowd of people, for the thou- 
sandth time that day, took up the shout; God preserve our 
lord, the shereef! Long life to the Sultan 

A man mounted upon a fine barb suddenly spurred up to 
within a few yards of the Sultan, and checking his steed, 
sprang from the saddle. Crouching to the ground, he glided 
forward, and pressed his lips several times in quick succession 
to the imperial slipper. 

^‘Ha!” exclaimed Muley Ismael. ‘^Kaid Hammed ibn 
Slowek! fresh from the city of the Prophet, oh! most holy 
saint ?” and a slight sneer curled the corners of the Sultan’s 
mouth. 

May it please my lord,” replied the kaid, the miracle 
of God — to whom be all praise — has again been performed in 
my unworthy person. I have been to Mecca.” 

‘‘And how fares it in the Holy City?” demanded Muley 
Ismael. “ The Kaaba still stands as it stood in El Haram . 
when you were there last week?” 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


193 


The House of God is as it was in the court of the Temple,” 
replied the kaid, trembling; for there was something por- 
tentous in the tones of the Sultan’s voice. 

‘‘And did you kiss the Adjun Assouad 

“ My lips pressed the black stone of the Kaaba,” answered 
the kaid. 

“Oh! most holy saint!” exclaimed the Sultan; “well may 
you bless God — for he blesses thee. Did you drink of the 
waters of Zemzetn 

“ The shereef of the well presented the draught with his 
own hands,” said the kaid. 

“ La illahha ilia Allah /” exclaimed Muley Ismael, rolling 
his eyes up in affected devotion. “What a miracle! Here, 
let my hand touch the lips that have so recently pressed the 
black stone, and been wetted with the waters of Zemzeml'^ 

The kaid seized the Sultan’s hand, and kissed it repeat- 
edly. 

“ Did’st think of what I charged thee?” said Muley Is- 
mael, bending down from his saddle, and speaking in a low 
voice. 

“ Is the slave of my lord the shereef dead, that he cann 
hear?” exclaimed the kaid; “is he worse than a hound, that 
he should forget the commands of his master ? Look, oh, 
thou descendant of the true Prophet of God — may Sidi ever 
be as faithfully served !” 

The kaid fumbled for a while at his girdle, and producing 
a small leather box, presented it to the Sultan. 

Muley Ismael took the casket and opened it. 

“’Tis of but little value,” said the trembling kaid, who 
noticed a peculiar twinkle of the Sultan’s eye as it fell upon 
the string of pearls; “ but, by the holy hills of Shedoud and 
She-she / it was the best in all Mecca — ” 

The protestations of the kaid were cut short by a loud 
laugh from Muley Ismael. Again and again the Sultan 
looked at the necklace in his hand, and throwing himself 
backward and forward in the saddle, indulged in very un- 
kingly and un-Mussulman -like fits of laughter. The humor 
of the monarch spread, and, notwithstanding the usual 
rigidity of Moorish gravity, a general laugh arose Irom the 
train of courtiers, although not one of them knew what he 
was laughing at. 

‘ • Where is Yacob Benoliiel ?” demanded the Sultan. 


194 


tHEi BERBEl^^ 


The duties of treasurer to the Sultan, although differing 
from what the title would import — Muley Ismael acting, in 
fact, as his own treasurer — required the close attendance of 
the officer of that name; and it was but a moment when 
Yacob, bowing and cringing, crept to the Sultan’s side. 

The Jew was a man of about thirty, with the characteristic 
features of his race, which, when seen — as is sometimes the 
case in Barbary — in the young, before oppression and cruelty, 
and the sordid pursuit of precarious wealth, have debased 
expression, affords one of the noblest types of human beauty. 
In the present case there was a certain manliness of expres- 
sion, which at his age indicated, despite the cringing attitudes 
of his body, that he had not always been a Jew of the towns. 
He was clad in a long, black sulham; a small, black skull- 
cap fitted his head, and in his hand he carried black slip- 
pers, which he had pulled off from his feet when called by 
the Sultan. 

“ Hal ha!” laughed Muley Ismael. Look at this, Yacob: 
did you ever see it before? Ha! ha!” 

It was dangerous to laugh — it was dangerous not to 
Jaugh; and Yacob contented himself with a slight chuckle 
and a steady look at the necklace that tee Sultan held in his 
hand. 

Hast seen it before?” demanded Muley Ismael. 

‘^May it please my lord the Sultan, I have,” said Yacob. 

When and where? ’ demanded Muley Ismael, in a voice 
from which all tones of mirth had departed. 

As the life of Sidi is precious, I had it in my hand this 
morning.” 

Well!” exclaimed Muley Ismail; what became of it?” 

Thy servant the kaid saw it, and afterwards he came to 
me in great haste, and demanded that I should give it to him. 
He swore that if I failed, the light of Sidi’s eyes should be 
withdrawn from me; and, as I live but in the smiles of my 
lord the Sultan, I was forced to comply.” 

“Mercy! Justice! Oh! Sidi! justice!” exclaimed the 
kaid, sinking to his knees. “ Believe not the Jew — he is a 
liar! He is trying to throw dust in the eyes of my lord. The 
curse of the Prophet be on his race! Oh, Sidi! trust him 
not! Next Friday will prove my truth. The angel Gabriel 
will aid me, and the biggest pearls from Ormuz shall string a 
necklace for my lord the shereef.” 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


195 


Muley Ismael said nothing, but slightly raising his hand, 
his executioners seized the kaid, and tosbiiig him high in the 
air, let him fall head first to the ground. The kaid’s collar 
bone was fractured, and an arm dislocated; but still he pre- 
served his senses, and notwithstanding the pain he suffered, 
lay perfectly motionless, as if dead, upon the ground. The 
executioners stood over him, ready to repeat the operation, 
and waiting for the signal from the Sultan. Muley Ishmael, 
however, appeared to be satisfied with the punishment in- 
flicted; and turning away, he glanced around upon the silent 
crown. His eyes lighted upon Don Diego. 

Kaid Suleiman,’’ exclaimed the Sultan, addressing the 
don by his new Mohammedan name, ^‘you will step into this 
man’s slippers — you are kaid of the slaves.”^ 

The Sultan waved his hand to the crowd of courtiers and 
dignitaries, and spurring his horse, dashed in through the 
gate, accompanied only by his executioners and a few 
favorite officers of the black troops. He rode rapidly on 
to the palace, taking no further notice of the deposed kaid 
than to whisper an order that an officer should visit his house, 
and secure for the imperial treasury anything of value that 
might be found. 

The slight knowledge of Arabic possessed by the renegade 
would have scarcely enabled him to comprehend the words of 
the Sultan, had they not received an instant illustration in the 
altered manner of the surrounding officials. Congratulations 
upon his good fortune were showered upon him in Arabic and 
Spanish, and many rushed forward to kiss his hands and his 
garments. The don suddenly found himself a man of power, 
the exact extent of which he was ignorant of, but which he 
resolved to take immediate measures to ascertain. Accom- 
panied by a crowd of people, he set out for the quarter of 
the slaves. A dozen ragged renegades surrounded his horse, 
quarreling with each other for the position of interpreter to 
the new dignitary, and ever and anon shouting to the popu- 
lace, Clear the way for our lord the kaid of the Christians 
— room for the favorite of Sidi, the shereef!” 

The far en kaid, deserted by all but a few negro soldiers, 
who still retained some reverence for his sanctity, was assisted 
to a hut in the camp, where his arm was rudely pulled back 


♦Again will the author take the liberty of saying that this is no mere invention of an 
unfortunate novelist, hard pushed for an incident, but an actual and authentic fact. 


196 


THE BERBER, 


into place, while the fractured collar bone was left to unite 
itself as best it could. The kaid, stretched upon the hard 
ground, had good opportunity for reflection upon the uncer- 
tainty of all sublunary things, especially under a despotic 
government; but the usual philosophic resignation to the 
orderings of Providence, characterising a faith in El Islam, 
marked his manner, and he bore the reverse of fortune and 
the pain of his wounds with a calm patience, that in a Christ- 
ian land would have been singularly edifying. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

The news of the deposition and punishment of the kaid 
of the slaves spread rapidly throughout the city. It was 
eagerly canvassed at the corners of the streets and in the 
numerous little coffee-houses, where were assembled parties 
of quidnuncs, some playing at chess and draughts, others 
idly squatted on strips of carpet around the rooms, or on 
pieces of matting in the open patio, and all waiting the hour 
when the starlight should permit an indulgence in the fra- 
grant mocha or in tea (the newer and more fashionable 
beverage, which has since quite superseded the Arabic berry), 
or in the more exciting pleasure of the haschscheese, while 
some few, in despite of the commands of the Prophet, were 
secretly reveling in the anticipations of numerous strong 
doses of Jew brandy, well spiced with aniseed, or, worse than 
that, in the eyes of good Mussulmans, a long pull at the hota 
of Spanish wine. 

The subject was an unusually interesting one, inasmuch as 
it involved the questions of the kaid’s sanctity, and the truth 
of the miracle which he pretended was performed each week 
in his own person on Friday. The general impression 
seemed to be that the journeys to Mecca were actually per- 
formed, but that the kaid was very much to blame for not 
bringing the Sultan a present of more value. A few there 
were who energetically opposed this view of the subject; 
but their arguments and assertions were listened to with dis- 
trust. The pretended journey had all the essential claims of 
anything strange or new upon popular credulity. It was in- 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


197 


comprehensible — absurd ! a violation of all actual knowledge, 
and supported by no testimony that was worth anything. 
Now it may be asserted, without fear of denial, that in no 
Christian community of the present day can any proposi- 
tion, possessing similar claims to public faith, be startec 
without finding at once defenders and expounders. In fact, 
it may be asserted that if any ridiculous and absurd proposi- 
tion or pretension fails to impose upon the credulity of a cer- 
tain order of minds, it is because it is not absurd and ridicu- 
lous enough. Who can wonder, then, that at that period, 
among the superstitious and ignorant Moors, the pretensions 
of the deposed saint should be received as truth ? 

Within and around the open gate where the encounter be- 
tween the kaid and the Sultan had taken place, was one of 
these groups, composed of a few lounging guards, half-a-dozen 
black soldiers from the camp, and a crowd of countrymen 
and women, who were passing backward and forward; some 
mounted on asses, some driving the little animals before them, 
with their bodies half hidden in immense loads of charcoal 
and firewood. 

Among the throng collected to listen to the discussion of 
the events that had just occurred, was a figure that the reader, 
having had an opportunity of seeing under his different 
disguises, would at a glance have recognized as the Berber. 
He was on foot, Boroon having been left at a little distance 
without the walls, in charge of a peasant, whose small garden, 
surrounded by a fence of tall reeds, afforded a secure asylum. 
Observing the excited crowd, he paused in the arched passage- 
way beneath the gate to learn the news. 

Glad of an auditor who had heard nothing of the affair, 
the garrulous old gate-keeper readily recounted the principal 
circumstances, which, as he had been present upon the spot 
he described much more correctly than his hearer would 
have heard them within the city, where, although but an 
hour had elapsed, a dozen different versions were flying 
about. The Berber listened attentively, asked a few ques- 
tions respecting the appointment of the renegade to the 
office of kaid of the slaves, and then slouching the hood of 
his djellabeah a little more over his face, passed on and en- 
tered the city. 

‘‘This must be looked to,” he muttered to himself, “ and 
that quickly. Yacob’s manoeuvre succeeded admirably with 


198 


THE BERBER, 


the negro. So far so well; he is disposed of for a while — • 
and Yacob’s position is secure. But as to these Christians, 
much I fear the deposition of the negro will not serve them 
This renegade will spare no pains to find them. But he 
cannot know, as yet, where they are !” 

The Berber paused and mused for a moment; then re- 
suming his walk, he turned into the street leading to the 
quarters of the slaves. At the gate of the guard-house he 
stopped and looked in. A dozen guards were chatting in the 
skeffa, and as many more could be seen in the patio beyond. 
At that hour the sight was unusual — the sun being yet half an 
hour below the horizon, and the slaves not having returned 
from their work. The chief duty of the guard being, as we 
have said, to protect the Christian quarter from the attacks 
of the populace, rather than to prevent the escape of the 
slaves. 

Casbin el Subah glanced carelessly into the vestibule, 
raised his hand as if to feel his beard in the Moorish style, 
and passed on. Slowly one of the guards rose from the 
floor and sauntered out into the street. As he disappeared 
from the sight of his companions, he quickened his steps, 
and in a few minutes overtook the Berber. 

AmizergP'^ exclaimed the soldier in a low tone. 

AmekranP'* replied the Berber. 

The soldier pressed to the side of Casbin, and glancing 
around, to make sure that no one was within sight, touched 
the garments of the chief, and then carried his hand to his 
eyes and his lips. A few sentences in the Berber language 
passed between them. Some communication of interest it 
evidently was, for Casbin started; and suddenly motioning 
to the soldier to return, he him .elf turned, and with a rapid 
step, pursued his way to the house of Abdallah. 

As he raised the heavy iron knocker, the door was opened 
by the kaid himself, to give egress to a man dressed in a 
coarse black bornoose, aud an old greasy skull-cap of the 
same color. The Jew (for such the color of his garments, 
to say nothing of the cringing air and suspicious look, and the 
striking national features, sufficiently indicated him to be) 
glanced furtively at the Berber, threw his black slippers that 
he carried in his hand upon the ground, thrust his naked feet 
into them, and shuffled off in apparent haste and fear of ob- 
servation, 


A Tale op MORoCCOi 


199 


Casbiii stepped within the skeffa, and Abddla closed the 
door. The kaid was too much of a gentleman to indicate^ 
by word or look, either curiosity or surprise. To the usual 
composed and self-possessed substratum of good manners, 
common to the Moor of almost every degree, he added the 
polish of the trai^eled and educated cosmopolite^ With the 
usual expressions of welcome and a courteous gesture, he 
invited his guest into the patio^ 

^‘May your politeness never be abused,” replied Casbin; 
^‘but I need not enter further* I have but a few words to 
say* I have this moment learned that imminent danger 
again threatens the Nazarite maidens.” 

So far from it,” replies Abdallah, their chief enemy 
Hammed ben Slowek, has been put beyond the power of 
harming them by the Sultan himself. He made his journey 
to Mecca to-day; but, praise be to God! .the son of a burnt 
grandfather brought back a skin full of broken bones.” 

I heard the news as I entered the gates,” replied Casbin; 
‘^but if one plotter of evil has been put out of the way, 
another has taken his place.” 

‘‘Kaid Suleiman, the renegade?” 

‘‘ Don Diego de Orsolo that was — the cousin of the sisters 
— the lover of the eldest, and their bitterest foe.” 

“ True — I have learned as much from my child, Xaripha; 
from the rais and his brother; and from the maidens them- 
selves. But this renegade! — may the mercies of the Inqui- 
sition some day fall upon him — this Kaid Suleiman ! — he can 
as yet know nothing of their retreat !” 

“It will not do to trust to his ignorance,” interposed the 
Berber. “ I know that he fancies he has a clue, and he is 
not the man to let the thread break in his hands. He has 
received some communication of interest, and he has ordered 
that a detachment of his guards shall hold themselves in 
readiness for service to-night. I know not,” continued the 
Berber, “that the movement refers to the maidens, but it 
looks very much like it. At any rate, you must apprise the 
rais, and we must hold ourselves in readiness to — ” 

“ Change their residence again ?” demanded Abdallah. 
“ It seems that we shall not gain much by that, if their 
hiding-place is to be so easily discovered.” 

“No!” answered the Berber, musingly; “ not to change 
their residence, but to leave the city.” 


THE BERBER, 


^OO 

it be Safe to do so ? Can you secure their retreat 
to the hills ?” asked the kaid. 

I think it can be done without danger,” replied the Ber- 
ber. ‘‘ The Sultan has issued orders for a general review on 
the plain of Sakel, to terminate with the lab el barode and a 
feast at night. You know how fond of the ‘powder play ’ 
the troops are. That and the feast will bring in all the bands 
that are now occupying the country between us and the hills. 
By making a detour from the North gate, I think that we shall 
be able to reach the great ravine of Habab without encoun- 
tering any enemies. 

“’Tis different from my original design,” he con tinned^ 

“ which was to collect force enough to drive the blacks into 
the city by a sudden and rapid attack, and to receive the 
maidens the moment they left the gates. But to do that 
requires time, and if this new kaid has any knowledge of their 
hiding-place we have no time to spare.” 

“ The lab el barode favors us,” replied Abdallah. “Besides, 
the journey cannot be so dangerous. Do you not pass back 
and forth from the mountains without difficulty?” 

“You forget,” said the Berber. “lam amounted djin. 
A million of men could not make a barrier that Boroon and I 
alone could not pass; but with a party badly mounted, and 
females too, it would be quite another thing. But as you say, 
the lab el barode will help us, and a bold push for safety is 
better than for them to rema n longer in the city. Art sure 
that the day after to-morrow is the appointed time for the 
‘powder burning ?’ ” 

“I heard the order fall from the Sultan’s lips,” replied 
Abdallah. 

“ You will give us a pass for the gates?” asked Casbin. 

“ It will not be needed,” said Abdallah. 

“ How so ?” demanded the Berber. “ The guard will not 
open the gates at night, without some warrant for it, and it 
will be difficult to pass the maidens over the walls.” 

“ I shall go with you,” replied the kaid, “and I will take it ‘ 
upon myself to see that there is no difficulty about the gates. 
’Tis the last order I shall give respecting them, and no fear 
but that it will be obeyed ” 

“Ah!” exclaimed the Berber, “that is fortunate, indeed. 

I supposed that you were hardly prepared to set out so soon;, 
but if you are ready, you need not hesitate in an open exer- 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


201 


cise of your authority as kaid of the gates. You will apprise 
the rais of our plans ?” 

“ At once — and I will also proceed to make such prepara- 
tions for traveling as the character of our party will require. 
I will order horses and mules to be in readiness outside the 
gate.” 

The details of the plan were few and simple, and when 
settled the Berber took his leave. Abdallah lingered for a 
moment to give his orders to Xaripha and Fatima, and then 
sallied into the street. 

The worthy kaid was well pleased with the turn that affairs 
had taken. His anxiety to get away from the city had been 
increased very much within a day or two by several courteous 
salutations from the Sultan. Muley Ismael had even con- 
descended to proffer, with one of his mildest grins, the palm 
of his hand to the kaid to kiss. Abdallah was a brave man, 
but he thought of Xaripha, and trembled. He knew that the 
tiger was crouching for a spring, and with desperate energy 
hastened his preparations for flight. The Jew, who left his 
door as the Berber entered, was the agent through whom he 
had as last succeeded in converting the bulk of his property 
into bills of exchange upon Marseilles and Leghorn; an 
operation, under the peculiar circumstances of the case, of 
extreme difficulty and danger. He was now free to go, and 
nothing could come more opportunely than the proposition of 
the Berber to start that night. 

With a buoyant step he visited the northern gate to see 
that it was in charge of an officer who knew his person and 
office. He then went to his stables, and selecting the requisite 
number of the finest horses and mules, despatched them in 
charge of a groom, with orders to pass the gate before it was 
closed for the night, and to halt at the dilapidated sanatorium 
of Sidi Hali, a famous saint of the olden time. 

The lingering rays of twilight tinted a few light fleecy 
clouds with crimson, and lighted np the gilding of the domes 
and minarets as the kaid sought the house of the rais. 

‘It was with no ordinary feelings of satisfaction that Hassan 
listened to the communication of the kaid. Shut up within 
the walls of a strange city — hampered in his movements by the 
necessity of caution — and powerless himself in view of the sev- 
eral evil influences at work around him, he longed to get away 
to some place, where, if there was . still something to fear, 


202 


THE BERBER, 


there would be at least greater freedom of action. His sense 
of the dangers threatening the sisters was very much height- 
ened by the almost complete inactivity to which, by his posi- 
tion, he was doomed. He felt that he could do but little to 
unravel or to counteract the plots that his and their enemies 
were weaving. He could not watch over them as he wdshed, 
for until the streets had become silent at night he dared not 
show himself in the neighborhood of their dw^elling. He 
dared not trust himself again at court. He had escaped 
once, but he knew the risk of attracting the royal attention 
too strongly to himself or his prot^es. Having been 
brought up mostly at sea, he felt out of his element in the 
streets of a city and the purlieus of a court. His joy was 
unbounded, although subdued in its expression, when the 
kaid informed him that the Berber advised their departure 
that night. His confidence in the judgment and resources of 
the young chief of the Beni Moza/g was unlimited, and his 
eye flashed and his cheek glowed at the thought of once 
more seeing Isabel, under circumstances which, if not devoid 
of danger, would at least make his devotion of some service in 
her defence. 

‘‘Think you,” he demanded, ^‘that this renegade has dis- 
covered the house ?” 

“I know not,” replied Abdallah. “The Berber did not 
detail fully the grounds of his suspicion. But even if he has 
discovered it, he will hardly attempt an arrest before mid- 
night, and by that time we shall be away. Recollect,” con- 
tinued Abdallah, pulling from within the folds of his sash a 
large French watch, “in three hours you will stop forme, and 
together we v/ill go for the maidens; they will need no prep- 
aration for their flight ; and, besides, the Berber, I presume, 
will apprise them; so that it will be, perhaps, as well for you 
not to venture out until the time for action arrives.” ^ 

Abdallah took his leave and the rais remained pacing with 
calm and deliberate step, but with inward impatience and 
anxiety, the darkened court. An hour passed — the anxiety 
of the rais increased. The apprehensions of the lover became 
more -and more excited the longer his thoughts dwelt upon 
the beauty of Isabel, the passion of Don Diet.^o, and the sus- 
picions of the Berber. A conviction came over him that his 
energetic and now powerful en.exny would not w^it till mid- 
liight to clutch such a prize. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


203 


The young man was right; but he little dreamed of a more 
imminent danger than even the revenge of the renegade, that, 
alas ! thanks to the stupid jealousy of Fatima, was at that 
moment impending over his beloved. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

We need not dwell upon the feelings of Don Orsolo upon 
finding himself so suddenly appointed to the office of kaid of 
the Christians. He was too much of a Spaniard, and, despite 
his apostacy, too much of a Christian to really value, for its 
own sake, any dignity in the power of the Moorish Sultan to 
bestow; but he could hardly conceal the feelings of satisfac- 
tion with which he saw his treacherous friend Hammed 
removed from his path, and himself endowed with the power 
to gratify the two strongest passions of his nature — love and 
revenge. He knew not the retreat of the sisters, but he was 
convinced that they were still in the city, and he doubted not 
that, with the whole force of his department at his command, 
he should be able in a day or two to find some clew to tlieir 
place of concealment. 

Fortune favored him beyond his expectations. Riding 
rapidly to the guard-house of the Christian quarter, he dis- 
mounted, and took possession of the principaj: saloon. For 
two or three hours he was busied in receiving the congratu- 
lations of the officers of the guard, and of numerous digni- 
taries who, with the instinct of the courtly sycophant, 
flocked to offer their homage to the latest favorite of royal- 
ty. The don soon tired of the repetition of the same ful- 
some compliments. He longed to be alone, that he might 
take counsel with his own mind as to the course he should 
pursue. The happy thought occurred to him of proposing 
a feast in the court, and inviting all to join in it as soon as 
the signals from the minarets should permit. Issuing orders 
for a sufficient quantity of cooscoosoo, he abruptly dismissed 
his hungry guests, who, in view of the liberality of the new 
kaid, reluctantly consented to leave him for a while to him- 
self. 

Slowly the renegade paced the tesselated floor of the long 


204 


THE BERBER, 


and narrow saloon. The rays of the setting sun fell more and 
more obliquely into the court; the shadows deepened within 
the arches of the folding-doors. The gloom of night gather- 
ed in the recesses of the vaulted room; the gloom of a still 
deeper night gathered m the recesses of the renegade’s heart. 
A vision of eternal punishment rose before him — the maledic- 
tions of the church rang in his ears — a feeling of despair and 
remorse made his flesh creep and his hair to stand on end, 

‘‘And she — she,’’ he exclaimed, clutching his hand and 
grinding his teeth, while the perspiration oozed in large drops 
from his brow, “is th^ cause of it all ! She drove me after 
that cursed gallant ! she sent me a slave among these bar- 
barians ! she compelled me to renounce my God ! But my 
revenge shall come. The Englishman — pah ! I hardly hate 
him. He shall feel the point of my dagger — but I hardly 
hate him. I could almost feel it in my heart to let him go ; 
but she ! by all the fiends, she shall go down to hell with 
me.” 

The don struck his clenched hand against his brow, and 
uttered a low groan of rage and anguish. 

A black slave glided into the court, and stood in the 
doorway. The renegade turned fiercely towards the in- 
truder. 

“May God preserve my lord,” said the black; “I have 
news for the kaid of the Christians.” 

“ Sere, sere / off — away with you !” shouted the renegade. 

The black shrunk back; paused for a moment, and then 
said, hesitatingly, in broken Spanish, “ I have news of the 
Christian women to give my lord; but it maybe that my lord 
cares not to know of them as did kaid Hammed.” 

“ What Christian women ?” demanded Orsolo, and sud- 
denly seizing the astonished black, he dragged him into the 
darkened saloon. 

“ What women ? Speak, speak, I say?” And the renegade, 
in his excitement, grasped the black by the breast of h’s 
djellabeah, and gave him two or three vigorous shakes. 

The first idea that comes into the head of a Moor when a 
little frightened, is that of a djin or evil spirit, and this idea 
now prevented the man from replying on the instant. At last, 
however, he recovered his voice, and with much trepidation, 
pi;oceeded to inform the renegade that kaid Hammed had 
placed him the night before, as a spy, in the neighborhood of 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


205 


Abdallah’s house. That he had been directed to watch for 
two Christian slaves, who, it was suspected, were concealed 
in the house of the kaid of the gates; that while at his post 
he had seen a party composed of three men and two women 
come out of the kaid’s house ; and that he had traced them 
to a house near the Bab el Gharb. 

‘‘But how know you that they were Christians?” de- 
manded Don Diego, in a voice husky with excitement. 

“ I know by their gait and their figures. They brushed 
my face as I lay in the street; one of them had a lighter foot 
than the other, but neither of them had the heavy tread of 
our Moorish women. I doubt not that the tallest one, had I 
been asleep, could have tripped along upon my body, from 
my heels to my head, without waking me.” 

“ And the three men ?” demanded Orsolo. 

“ One of them remained with the women — the others 
came out and returned to the house of the kaid.” 

There was not a doubt in Don Diego’s mind that the 
women were the sisters, and he resolved that he would enter 
the house by force if necessary, and seize them in virtue of 
his office, as kaid of the Christians. He was for setting out 
instantly, but just at that moment there came from the outer 
court a hum of voices, and an odor of bubbling flesh-pots, 
which convinced him that he should be obliged to wait until 
the long day’s fast had been properly broken by the even- 
ing’s feast. 

“ You can point out this house?” he demanded. 

“ As easily as point out the Bab el Gharb itself.” 

“ Why is it, then, that you failed to do so to kaid Ham- 
med ?” 

“ Because last night I could not find him, and to-day he has 
been absent on his journey to Mecca. He is kaid of the 
slaves no longer, and I thought it my duty to bring my in- 
formation to my lord. Kaid Hammed would, I doubt not, 
still give me the promised reward, but — ” 

“ You shall lose nothing,” said Don Diego, cutting short 
the fellow’s protestations. “ If your information prove true, 
trust me you could not have brought it to a better market. 
Go tell kaid Boufra to have a dozen men ready to accompany 
us as soon as their stomachs are filled.” 

The black departed to give the order to the lieutenant of 
the guard, and Orsolo resumed his walk and his self-corn- 


god 


THE BERBER, 


munings, but in a somewhat different spirit to that which 
actuated him before the entrance of the Moor. The tinge of 
remorse had disappeared; despair was for the time banished: 
the close contact of the actual and the present deadened the 
sense of the possible and the future; nothing remained but 
stern resolve, and deep, desperate, deadly revenge — a revenge 
which was to include not only Isabel and her former admirer 
Ed ward^ but also her sister, the spirited Juanita. Her image 
rose to the mind of the renegade, and with it an emotion of 
astonishment that he could so hate her — but hate her he 
did, although he did not like to admit, even to himself, that 
it was in return for the contempt with which he felt that the 
young girl had ever beheld hitn. 

The Moor gave the Don’s order to Kaid Boufra; and the 
first dozen men who had begun to give the usual disgusting 
signs of repletion (characterizing a meal in Morocco even 
among the highest and most polished dignitaries of the 
land) were assembled in readiness to follow the chief. And- 
here it may be permitted to remark upon what will strike 
readers forming their ideas of military etiquette and cere- 
mony from Christian troops — the absence of anything like 
regular discipline or deference. In a Moorish corps, where 
the soldier of to-day may be the commander-in-chief of to- 
morrow, there is a degree of social equality which would be, 
in Christian ranks, subversive of all authority ; an officer may 
have power to order, and to enforce his orders, but that is 
no reason why he should refuse to dip his hand into the same 
pot with the meanest of his command. 

As soon as the men were ready,- the impatient renegade 
placed himself at their head, and, guided by the black, set 
out in the direction of the Bab el Gharb. We will leave 
him to pursue his course, while we return for a moment to 
the rais. 

As the shades of night darkened around the impatient 
rover his anxiety increased. The conviction grew stronger 
and stronger, that the renegade would not wait until mid- 
night to carry his designs into execution. This feeling at 
length became so powerfuLthat he could no longer rest in 
the house. Summoning Selim, he directed him to go to the 
fondac, where the crew of the corsair were lodged, and hav- 
ing collected half a dozen of the most trusty men, to follow 
him as quietly as possible to the Bab el Gharb. 


A TALE'OF MOROCCO* 


207 


The rais rapidly pursued his course to the point he h^d 
indicated to his followers* As he passed Abdallah’s door he 
paused, half inclined to stop and speak to the kaid, but it 
wanted yet an hour to the appointed time, and Hassan was 
somewhat ashamed of the feelings which had prompted him 
to sally forth in despite of his friend’s injunction to remain 
quiet until the hour for action. 

The rais passed on, and entered the street where stood the 
house to which the sisters had been consigned. The street 
was narrow, not more than ten feet in width; short, and 
closed at one end. As he came in sight of the house where 
his brother and the sisters were concealed, he was startled by 
the appearance of a party of men gathered around the door. 
He sprang forward without an instant’s hesitation, but just 
as he reached the spot the door was forced in, apparently 
without much effort, and the leaders of the party rushed into 
the skeffa leading into the court. Dashing aside, with vigor- 
ous arm, those in the rear, Hassan also sprang into th^ nar- 
row vestibule. Don Diego was on the threshold of the court, 
when he was suddenly seized with a grasp of iron, and 
thrown back into the arms of some of his men, while the ex- 
cited rais, passing him with a bound, wheeled, and, dra^wing 
his scimitar, confronted the astonished renegade. The flash 
of his sabre, as it swung in the faint light of the court, was 
sufficient to reveal the nature of the obstacle barring their 
further passage ; but there was not light enough to exhibit 
the features of the intruder who had thus violently thrust him- 
self into, and ahead of, their party. 

There was a pause for a moment, when suddenly a couple 
of torches, with which some of the guard had been provided, 
flared up in the vestibule, and threw their light into the court. 

The renegade thought that he saw the figure of his hated 
rival, Edward Carlyle, before him. He was no coward 
when his blood was up, and notan unskilful swordsman; and 
springing forward with a shout of rage, he made a sudden 
and desperate lunge at the breast of his adversary. The 
thrust was skilfully parried, and instantly returned; a few 
passes were rapidly interchanged, when the don threw up 
his arms and staggered backward, with the blood spouting 
from a wound in his breast. 

The whole had passed so rapidly, that the soldiers of the 
guard had no time to interfere. Not a word was spoken, 


2o8 


THE BERBER, 


and for a moment they remained behind their leader, as if 
paralyzed by the sudden flash and clash of steel. 

Don Diego, although desperately wounded, was deter- 
mined not to be balked of his revenge. “Seize him! 
Cut him down! A hundred ducats if you kill him on the 
spot !” 

Luckily, the voice of the renegade was beginning to fail 
him, and besides, he spoke in Spanish, and his orders were 
understood but by a few. 

“Come on!” shouted the rais, in Arabic; “all of you! 
Come on; I defy you! Let me see the first — aye, the first 
dozen of ye — that dares to cross the sword of Hassan Her- 
ach!” 

At the mention of the renowned name of the rover, there 
was a decided movement among the group of swarthy-faced 
guards crowding the skeffa, indicating a disposition to draw 
back rather than to advance. ‘ 

“ Shoot him down !” exclaimed the renegade. “ He is no 
Moor — he is a Kaffir — a dog of an Englishman! A thousand 
ducats to whoever will kill the unbeliever!” 

Overcome with passion and loss of blood, the Don sank 
speechless from the arms of the black to the ground. His 
offer of a thousand ducats, however, made some little stir 
among the guards, and two or three in the background 
leveled their long guns over the heads of those in front. 
Their movements were cut short by a commotion at the street 
door, and by the appearance of a crowd of new comers in the 
vestibule. 

The quick eye of the rais recognized the familiar faces of 
his crew as they crowded into the skeffa, and stretched their 
necks to overlook the heads of the guards. 

“Ha! welcome, my boys! You are in time!” exclaimed 
the rais, “Close up! close up! Drive the fellows in! Secure 
the door there! Let not one escape! And now, dogs! who 
have howled in the leash of this renegade,” continued Has- 
san, addressing the guards, “down with your arms.” 

The frightened soldiers obeyed, and in obedience to a ges- 
ture of the rais delivered their arms, even to their knives and 
daggers, into the hands of Selim, and then quietly squatted 
together in one corner of the court. 

The rais had now leisure to look around, and was at once 
struck with the fact that not a sign could be perceived of 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


209 


any of the three inhabitants of the house. The rooms were 
all open and empty. The gallery was vacant — the terrace 
deserted. 

Satisfying himself that the maidens were gone, he returned 
to the court, whfere Don Diego was still lying insensible. 
The rais directed some water to be sprinkled on the face of 
the renegade, and a draught to be applied to his lips. The 
wounded man drank, and consciousness returned. He 
opened his eyes, but the clear flash of passion had passed 
from them, and in its place were the first shadings of the 
haze that curtains to the retreating soul the windows through 
which it has been wont to look upon the world. 

The renegade listened with interest to the intimation that 
the sisters were not to be found ; and his earnest denial of any 
knowledge of their fate carried a conviction of its truth at 
once to the mind of the rais. 

The impassioned rover was puzzled. A thousand varying 
apprehensions of evil rushed upon his mind; while there was 
but one hope, and that was that his brother had by some 
means secured an intimation of the kaid’s intended visit, and 
that he and the maidens had sought a refuge in the house of 
the kaid of the gates. 

Hassan, anxious to ascertain at once whether this hope was 
well or ill-founded, made a movement for the street, but his 
step was arrested by a gesture and an imploring look from the 
renegade. Hassan returned, and again knelt by the side of 
the wounded man, who, after a slight shudder and a pause, 
during which he seemed to be mastering some internal emo- 
tion, signed to the black to draw aside. 

“You are a Christian, although not of my Church,” whis- 
pered the don. 

“You mistake me,” replied Hassan. “ You are thinking of 
Edward Carlyle. He resembles me, but I am not he. Me 
you have never seen before.” 

“You mock me,” exclaimed the don. But there was 
something so calm and truthful in the young man’s look, that 
Don Diego could not but be convinced — an expression of 
intense anguish passed over his features. 

“Oh! if you are not he — the man I have most hated,” 
said Orsolo, in a tone of agonized inquiry, “then you are — 
you must be a Moor!” 

“I have been bred a Moor; but still I am no blind bigot 


210 


THE BERBER, 


of El Islam. If you have anything to say, you can speak to 
me as if I were a Christian.” 

^‘I would see one of the fathers of the Spanish convent,” 
whispered the dying man. 

Hassan started and hesitated. ’Twill be dangerous for 
both,”" he said. ‘‘ Know you not the jealousy of the Moors, 
and the terrible vengeance they take upon a renegade who 
recants his profession of Mohammedanism?” 

'‘I know — I know,” impatiently exclaimed the don, but 
I am dying; I feel that I am dying — and by your hand! 
You will not refuse to aid me? I must see a priest — quick, 
or it will be too late.” 

The mental agony of the wounded man was expressed in 
every feature. Hassan hastened to assure him that he would 
do all in his power to secure him what he desired, but 
reminded him that jealous eyes were upon him, and that he 
must give no signs of a wish to recant. 

It is rather a bad wound,” he exclaimed in Arabic, and 
in a loud tone, so that all could hear; I will go and find one 
of the Christian doctors of the Spanish hospitium — perhaps 
he can do something for it.” 

Before setting out, he directed the wounded man to be 
be carried into a room of the inner court, and placed upon 
the couch of the sisters. The Moorish guard were shut up in 
one of the rooms of the outer court, the door firmly secured, 
and a sentry seated cross-legged in front of it ; and the crew 
of the corsair brought within the court, so as not to attract 
attention from the street. 

It wanted but half an hour to his appointment with Abdallah, 
and besides, the anxiety of Hassan to find some clew to the 
mysterious disappearance of the sisters increased each mo- 
ment, as the excitement of the recent affray died away. But 
the agonized and imploring look of the renegade would not 
permit him to hesitate as to his course. With a rapid step he 
traversed the irregular streets, and knocked at the heavily- 
barred and bolted door of the Spanish convent. It took him 
some little time to procure admission, and to make the object 
of his visit known. 

The service invoked was one of great danger, the Moors 
being exceedingly jealous of any communication between the 
fathers and any of their renegades; but the worthy brother- 
hood did not hesitate, and one of their number was at once 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


2II 


deputed to accompany the rais. Brother Leva was the youngest 
and most active of the small band of the hospitium; but al- 
though his coarse tunic of grey cloth was tucked up and 
girded with a stout hempen cord, and a long staff assisted his 
steps, he had great difficulty in keeping pace with the rapid 
stride of his impatient conductor. 

Hassan led the priest into the further court, and thence 
into the room where the wounded man lay. A few moments’ 
scrutiny satisfied the priest that the wound was necessarily 
mortal. He shook his head despondingly. Don Diego raised 
his eyes to the face of the rais with an imploring look, which 
the latter readily interpreted into a request to be left alone 
with the priest. Hassan withdrew andT closed the door, and 
calling his second in command, charged him to permit no 
man to enter the inner court; to give free egress to the priest 
when he should have finished dressing the wound, and to 
keep the guard closely confined until further orders. The 
rais knew his men, and that however much they might suspect 
that the medication of the monk was being addressed rather 
to the spiritual than the bodily wounds of the renegade, they 
would not dare to disobey his orders. Any other than the 
crew of the corsair would have been more difficult to man- 
age, and priest and penitent would alike have risked the 
cross or the stake. The time appointed by Abdallah had 
arrived, and as he could do nothing further for the wounded 
man, the rais, taking Selim with him, set out for the house of 
the kaid of the gates. 

It was some half-hour after his departure that the monk 
issued from the room into the inner court, and with stealthy 
step and furtive glance, advanced to the arched passage-way, 
where were seated several of the crew of the corsair. One 
of them touched his skirts. 

How is kaid Suleiman ?” demanded the sailor; can you 
heal his wound ?” 

‘‘ The kaid’s wound is beyond the skill of man,” replied 
the monk. He has finished his course.” 

Dead !” exclaimed the man. But what else could you 
expect? Our rais’ arm is not a woman’s, and he is a fool who 
thinks to cross swords with him and live. The kaid died a 
true believer ?” 

A true believer;” and fearful of being questioned further, 


212 


THE BERBER, 


the monk pulled his cowl over his face, and shuffled in all 
haste across the court into the street. 

As he pursued his way to the convent, the worthy priest 
muttered a prayer for the repose of his penitent’s soul, and 
blessed the mercy of God that had put it in his power to as- 
sure the repentant apostate of forgiveness in Heaven. 

Masses were chanted by the brotherhood in the little 
chapel of the hospitium for the same purpose ; but Christian 
burial was denied, the monks not daring to propose that the 
body should be laid in the ground consecrated to the burial 
of Christian slaves. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Slowly the Berber sauntered through the streets, appa- 
tently without an object, and with the hood of his djellabeah 
drawn so far over his face as to conceal the keen glances with 
which he noted the passers-by. Two or three times he stopped, 
and, exchanging a word or two wJth men who, like him- 
self, had their features partially concealed by their hoods, 
or by the fluttering ends of their ragged turbans, again 
moved on slowly and listlessly, as before. In no instance 
did any of these people address him first; but it was 
noticeable that the instant he spoke they were all attention, 
and that a certain degree of deference never failed to 
mingle itself with an air of assumed indifference. It was evi- 
dent that the Berber had numerous emissaries in the city, and 
even within the precincts of the palace — a precaution ren- 
dered necessary by hk> own position and the faithlessness of 
the enemy with whom he had to deal. Possessing a strong- 
hold that was perfectly impregnabte, there was, nevertheless, 
a portion of his territories that could be defended with 
difficulty against a large force, and it was essential to be 
apprised in time of any movements of the Sultan’s court 
and camp, that his people might be abie to gather their 
flocks and herds, and retreat to a place of safety. In this 
manner the rapacity of Muley Ismael had been several times 
foiled. A small body of troops could not make an attack 
upon the wary and warlike Beni Mozarg with any hope of 


A TALfi OF MOROCCO. 


213 


success; and each time that a larger force had been put in 
motion, although every effort had been made to conceal its 
destination, and to allay the suspicions of the Berber chief 
by assurances of the most profound esteem and friendship, 
the Sultan had found his treachery had by some means got 
wind, and that his prey had escaped. If an organized sys- 
tem of espionage was necessary to the safety of his tribe, it 
was still more so to the success of his grand scheme for the 
union of all the tribes qf the Atlas, and the final overthrow 
of Moorish rule in Morocco; and Casbin Subah had suc- 
ceeded in making friends at court, and in so placing his 
emissaries, that not a plot, intrigue or movement of any im- 
portance could escape him. 

Upon the present occasion nothing of any consequence 
seemed to be communicated to him by the persons to whom 
he spoke, and he sauntered on until he came to the shop of a 
baker. The entrance was open, and around it, within and 
without, were squatted a number of female slaves, and a dozen 
or two of ragged children. The baker, a fat fellow with bare 
legs and arms, and a little red skull-cap on his head, was 
seated in front of his oven, with his feet in a shallow pit, in- 
dustriously putting in and taking out the loaves of wheaten 
bread which had been brought by the clamorous group 
around the door. 

^‘My bread! my bread!’’ shouted one. ^^How long will 
you keep me here, oh! thou master of a cold oven ?” 

‘‘My bread! my bread!” cried another. “Do you wish 
that my mistress should starve? See, the sun has just gone 
to bed, or I would take the bread away, and bake it on 
warm stone, sooner — ” 

“My bread! my bread!” chorused a number of voices. 
“Haste there, oh! thou son of the hills, where the bakers 
all heat their ovens with snow. Ha! ha! the Berber thinks 
one donkey load of brushwood enough for all the ovens in 
Mequinez ! May the place that you will go to, when you 
die, be no hotter than your oven ; and that is a better fate than 
you deserve. Hark ! El-assar will be sounded before this 
hater of heat — this fire despiser — give us our bread!” 

A loud clapping of hands, with peals of laughter and a 
clucking sound of the tongue, accompanied each abusive sally. 
The badgered baker retorted in kind. Glowing with heat 


214 


THE BERBER, 


and rage, he tossed the steaming loaves to their noisy owners 
with many a loud-voiced objurgation. 

^‘Sere/ sereP'* he shouted to each in turn. “Away with 
you! In the name of Sheitan and all his imps, away with 
you 1 And may the bread turn in your stomachs to red-hot 
bricks!” 

The cursings of the baker and the chatterings of the slaves 
were hushed by the sudden appearance of the chieftain of the 
Beni Mozarg in the doorway. The young man entered, and 
making a slight sign to the baker, quietly took a seat in one 
corner of the low, unpaved, dingy apartment. 

In a few minutes the baker had distributed the contents of 
his oven to his clamorous customers, when, looking carefully 
out, to see that no one remained within hearing, he advanced 
to the Berber and threw himself at his feet. The chieftain 
raised himself up, and extended his hand to the kneeling 
baker. 

“Enough, Ishmael,” he exclaimed, “I need no assurances 
of your loyalty. The business prospers, does it not ?” 

“ With the blessing of God and the favor of my lord, it 
does. I am picking up a few fluces, but I long for the day 
when I shall go back to the hills.” 

“Be in no hurry, Ishmael; gather wealth, for you know 
what the Moors say, ^wealth is worth;’ besides, I have need 
of your services here. But, Ishmael, to the business that 
brings me to speak with you. The troops are to have a 
review and ‘powder burning’ to-morrow?” 

“It has been so ordered by the Sultan, I hear.” 

“Upon the plain of Sakel ?” 

“That is the order. I heard it almost as soon as it was is- 
sued, from the kaid of blacks.” 

“And Sakel,” continued the Berber, “is some distance from 
the city, and within an hour’s sharp ride of the great ravine.” 

“True, but it is very level ground, and the troops will 
reach it before the second morning prayer.” 

“Ismael, I misdoubt this lab el barode. Under cover of 
‘powder playing’ an expedition to the hills maybe intended. 
You must ascertain whether — ” 

“My lord need give himself no uneasiness. There is not 
bread enough in the camp for two days. Were there any 
design against our people, every baker in the city would have 
received orders to bake a supply of bread for the troops. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


215 


My lord may trust in me. I know that there is nothing to 
fear in the movement to-morrow ; but, to make sure, I will 
go to all the bakers in the camp. Where shall I meet my 
lord to-night?” 

At the north gate. I shall pass through it with a party, 
but I care not to be recognized. If you find that all is right, 
you will give the usual blessing on travelers; but if there is 
any ground for suspicion, you will join yourself to my party, 
and pass out with us. You can return in the morning, when 
the gates are opened for the day.” 

With this understanding, the Berber, after the usual com- 
pliments, took his leave of the baker, and passed into the 
street. The twilight was fading, and by the time that he had 
reached the house where were secreted the sisters, it was 
quite dark. He hesitated for a moment, and then, as if sud- 
denly resolved, tapped in a peculiar manner upon the door. 

It was immediately opened by Edward, who started and 
would have opposed his entrance, but with a quiet buenos 
noces^ senor,'^'^ Casbin slipped by him and entered the court. 
By the time that Edward could secure the door and follow, 
he found the maidens in the act of welcoming the intruder 
as an old friend — a welcome in which he was fain to join, 
when he found that there stood before him the famous Berber 
chief. 

The proposed plan of escape was explained by the young 
chieftain in a few words, and, as may be supposed, met with 
the ready approval of the maidens. The elevation of their 
apostate cousin to the dignity of kaid struck them with dis- 
may, and they felt that the only chance of escape from his 
clutches would be in instant flight from the city. Without 
hesitation they expressed their willingness to set out at any 
moment; a willingness in which they were joined by Edward, 
when he found, by a few casual questions, that Abdallah and 
his daughter were to be of the party. 

There was something more than usually grave in the man- 
ner of the Berber. The boyish tone and the mirthful and 
mischievous sparkle of his eye were gone, or rather seemed 
to be subdued by an expression of thought and care. An 
air almost of sadness passed occasionally across his youthful 
features. 

Juanita marked the change. Accustomed to obey each 
impulse of the moment, the young girl started forward and 
placed her hand upon Berber’s arrp, 


2I6 


THE BERBER, 


There is peril in the path you propose that we should 
follow,*’ she said, looking inquiringly into his face. 

‘^Not so,” said the Berber. ‘‘Nothing to excite your 
fears.** 

“ Nay,” interposed Juanita, “ let us know the worst. No 
danger can equal that which we fly from.” 

“As I live, I know of no danger beyond the city walls 
which, with proper prudence and care, we cannot avoid. 
But, why do you ask so earnestly?” 

“Because, senor,” replied Juanita, hesitatingly, “because 
your manner is so changed. You look so serious, so — ” 

The Berber laughed gaily, and taking Juanita’s hand, led 
her deliberately away, and beneath the arches. of the gallery 
into the inner court. 

“ There is danger, senorita, great danger, but it threatens 
not you — I must meet it and brave it.” 

“What is it? Where is it?” demanded Juanita. 

“ Here, senorita. It lies in the sparkle of those eyes — in 
the breath of those lips — in the glow of that cheek — in the 
wave of those ringlets.” 

The young man, as he spoke, looked at the maiden with a 
glance so impassioned, that her eyes fell, and the red blood 
mantled from bust to brow. 

“ So, senorita,” exclaimed the Berber gaily, after a pause, 
“ you think my manner changed. Indeed, you are observ- 
ant. But come, tell me which you like best — the mirthful or 
the grave — the boy or the man?’* 

“As a brother,” replied Juanita, looking up artlessly, “ I 
think I should like the boy best.” 

“ But as a lover, senorita?” 

“ Oh, in a lover, I am not sure that I should like either.” 

“ But suppose you were compelled to choose?” 

“Well, then, as a lover, I should prefer a proper propor- 
tion of the serious and the reserved.” 

Juanita again laid her hand on the young man*s arm, 
and looked up in his face. 

“But indeed, senor, you are changed — something troubles 
you — tell me what it is — have you enemies ?” 

“Enemies I” interposed the Berber, “I wish it were with 
my enemies alone that I had to coutend. The contest would 
be one, of pure unmixed pleasure. But to struggle with the 
prejudices and passions of friends — to find your best lai4 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


217 


schemes forever thwarted by the baser nature of the tools 
with which you have to work — to be continually collecting 
and binding the rich elements of a great empire, only to 
see them continually scattered and destroyed — that, girl, is 
enough to weigh with thought and care the most gay and 
buoyant spirit/’ 

“ But not to make a great spirit despair,” exclaimed the 
maiden, drawing up her slight figure; ‘‘No, not even to 
despond for a moment. Victory, with the means of winning 
it in our hands, is easy; but to create the means with which 
we win it, is glorious. Oh, senor, I have thought of what 
you told me of your dream of empire. Believe me, I sym- 
pathize with you in your desire to drive the Paynim from the 
land. ’Twill be a glorious struggle. But ah! a struggle 
nobler — more glorious still, is that to nationalize your tribes, 
to subdue their passions, heal their hereditary feuds, and set 
them in the path of civilization.” 

Juanita’s voice began to rise, and her eye to flash, when 
suddenly she caught the intense look of admiration that 
beamed from the Berber’s face. The young girl paused. 

“ By heaven, senorita, you are — you must be — you shall 
be — ” The young man paused, evidently restraining him- 
self with an effort. “My inspiration! my divinity! I will 
embroider your name on my banners. I will — ” 

The protestations of the Berber were cut short by a noise 
at the door, and an exclamation from Isabel; a slight crash, 
and the rush of a dozen men into the vestibule. 

Juanita flew back to the outer court, and seizing her sister 
by her robe, pulled the terrified Isabel towards the arches of 
the gallery; but before they could reach the passage a dozen 
men had forced their 'way, in despite of the opposition of 
Edward, and spreading along the side of the court, intercepted 
their retreat. 

The Berber had followed the young girl with a rapid step, 
but on reaching the outer court, and seeing the house so 
completely in the possession of the intruders, he paused for 
a moment in doubt. Edward was still boldly confronting the 
soldiers, and offering such opposition as an unarmed man 
could make to their further progress. Already a dozen 
muskets were presented at his breast, when the Berber inter- 
fered. He saw that all resistance was useless, and that Edward 
was simply arousing the brutality of the guards by his excla- 


THE BERBER, 


2 l8 

mations and demands, made in a language they did not 
understand. Putting his hand upon the young man’s 
slioulder, the Berber pulled him back, and enjoining silence, 
advanced himself and confronted the soldiers. 

The young chieftain’s mien was composed, but his mind 
was agitated with feelings of intense anxiety. For himself 
he feared nothing; he knew his ability to force his way out 
through the door, unarmed as he was, by a sudden exertion of 
his extraordinary strength and agility, or to escape by the ter- 
race over the house tops. But how was he to- save the 
sisters? As his mind rapidly ran over the chances, he could 
think of nothing better than to fly at once and endeavor 
to raise men enough to intercept their captors in the 
streets, or to attack the quarters of the Christian slaves, 
and free them by force. But to this plan there were numer- 
ous objections which presented themselves instantly to the 
quick mind of the Berber, and the idea was rejected almost 
as soon as formed. 

A feeling of desperation began to steal over him, as the 
conviction grew that, for the present, he was powerless; still 
he quietly ran his eye over the group before him, in search 
of some figure that he might identify as the renegade kaid of 
the slaves. The light from the copper lamps at the angles of 
the court was none of the brightest; but still it was sufficient 
to reveal the fat face of the chief of the harem. The eye of 
the Berber lighted up as he saw him waddle in from the skeffa, 
and, puffing and blowing with the unusual exercise, look 
around with an air of authority. 

By whose warrant,” demanded the Berber, in a stern 
tone, is this outrage committed ? Whose head will answer 
for violating the house of a true believer ?” 

The kaid of the harem puffed himself up with a long wheezy 
inspiration, and replied: I enter this house in the name of 
the Sultan, and my head shall answer for it.” 

^^In the name of the Sultan? In the name of that con- 
temptible renegade, the kaid of the slaves, you should say. 
Think not that his warrant will save your head. Think not 
that Muley Ismael, to whom may God grant long life! shall 
never learn this prostitution of his name.’’ 

The old negro’s eyes glowed with rage. There was some- 
thing in the Berber’s speech that touched his dignity, and it 
was some little time before he could recover breath enough 
to reply. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


219 


‘‘The kaid of the slaves, ha! The kaid of the Christians, 
you say! Why, what dog are you that dares to spit on our 
beard ? The kaid of the slaves! The renegade of yesterday, 
ha!—” 

A light broke in upon the mind of the Berber, and he has- 
tened to apologize for a supposition so injurious to the dignity 
of tiie chief of the harem, as that he should be the agent of 
a renegade. The old negro, naturally as good-natured as he 
was fat and stupid, was easily mollified; and led on by the wily 
questioning of the young chief, acknoMedged that it was at 
the instigation of the Sultan Queen that he had been sent to 
seize a young Christian maiden. ‘‘ Come,” he exclaimed to 
his men, and pointing to the sisters, “ here is what we have 
come after. As to these two,” pointing to the Berber and 
the young Englishman, “ we have nothing to do with 
them.” 

The maidens shrunk back as the kaid advanced towards 
them, when the Berber again interfered. 

“You say that your orders were to seize a Christian maiden ? 
Here are two. Beware that you do not exceed your or- 
ders.” 

The negro paused. The objection seemed to strike him. 
He gravely stroked his white beard, and rolled his eyes up 
in profound meditation. 

The mind of the Berber had been much relieved upon 
finding that it was not the renegade with whom he had to 
deal. He knew that it was infinitely preferable for the sis- 
ters to be transferred to.the harem of the royal palace than to 
the house of the kaid of the Christians; but as he looked at 
the stolid countenance of the puzzled negro there arose in his 
mind a faint gleam of hope that he could save one, if not both, 
from the temporary confinement (for he vowed that it should 
be but temporary) of the palace, 

“ Will it not be best,” said the Berber, “ for my lord the 
kaid to return to the Sultan Queen, and get her directions as 
to which of these maidens he is to take in charge ?” 

The negro rolled his eyes with a cunning leer; stupid as 
he was, he was not to be caught by any such trap. 

“ At any rate, you can take but one — recollect your orders. 
These maidens are the property and under the protection of 
a favorite of Muley Ismael — a man who, if the whim takes 
him, had as lief cut the throat of a chief of the harem as of 
the meanest Christian.” 


220 


the BERBER, 


Who ?” demanded the negro, swelling and bristling with 
a sense of his own dignity. 

‘‘Who? Why the fire-eater — the infidel exterminator — 
the lion of the sea — Hassan Herach!” 

was ordered by the sidana,” replied the kaid, in a sub- 
dued manner, ‘^to enter this house, and secure the person of 
one Christian maiden. I shall take one of these; I care not 
which.” 

“We will go together,” exclaimed Juanita, when she un- 
derstood the decision of the kaid. 

“ Do not — oh! do not separate us!” cried Isabel, clinging 
to her sister with a desperate grasp. 

The trembling form of Isabel held for support upon the 
upright figure of her younger sister. Her face was buried in 
the long, loosened tresses of Juanita’s hair, and tears and 
sobs gave utterance to her emotion. 

The younger sister stood firmly supporting the drooping 
form of Isabel. No tears furrowed her cheek, but her lip 
quivered, and her eye wildly scanned the countenance of 
the Berber. 

“ I will take one of these — and will take but one,” ex- 
claimed the kaid of the harem, who began to feel the re- 
sponsibilities of a position between the anger of Leila Ajakah 
on the one hand, and the vengeance of Hassan Herach on 
the other. 

The Berber explained the kaid’s words to the sisters. Ju- 
anita clasped her sister convulsively to her heart, and then 
raised her head to the young chieftain, who was standing at 
a little distance with his arms folded upon his breast, and 
with an air so impassive and composed that he looked more 
like an indifferent spectator of the scene than one of the 
most interested actors. 

“ If she remains and goes with you,” said Juanita, speak- 
ing of Isabel, “ will she be saved ?” 

“ I cannot doubt it,” quietly answered the Berber. 

“ Sister,” whispered Juanita, “oh! sister, we must part.” 
A cry of anguish burst from the weeping Isabel. 

“Hush, sister; ’tis useless; we must part. I shall go with 
this officer of the court. Oh, sister, you will visit our native 
land again. You will sit by the banks of the Guadalete. 
You will remember me — you will pray for me. But why 
need I charge you ? Me, sister, you never will, never can. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


221 


forget. I shall live in your memory — in your heart, as you do 
in mine. And oh ! sister, dearest sister, if we meet not again 
in this world, surely the blessed Virgin will unite us in the 
next. Pray to her, Isabel, that it may be so.” 

A sharp cry — a heart-breaking moan, followed by choking 
sobs, made Isabel’s reply. 

Juanita raised her head again to the Berber. 

‘‘ One of us must go with this man?” she demanded. 

I can see no help for it,” he replied. 

There was something in his calm tone, and composed, 
almost indifferent manner, that aroused the pride of the 
young girl. 

Can it be,she thought to herself, that he is confident of our 
ultimate safety ? and a glow of hope began to mount in her 
breast, but it was suddenly repressed. A feeling of bitterness 
usurped its place, as gazing into the eyes of the Berber she 
could read in their passionless, emotionless depths, not even 
a sentiment of curiosity, as to the decision she was about to 
make. Suddenly she started, and releasing herself from the 
embrace of her sister, advanced a step or two toward the 
Berber. 

‘‘ Tell this officer of the court,” she exclaimed, in a steady 
voice, ‘^that I am the one he was ordered to take. I am 
ready to go with him.” 

As she spoke, the strong emotion that had been banished 
for a while from the Berber’s face, rushed to his eyes and 
cheeks and brow, but he contented himself with saying in a 
low tone: 

‘‘You have decided well, senorita; go without fear; you 
will be kindly treated. They must first convert you to the 
true faith. Before their persecutions on that ground trouble 
you much you shall be as free as the air. Trust me, 
senorita I” 

‘T do, Senor. God knows I trust in your courage ; in your 
will; in your faith, as I do in His mercy and goodness. God 
knows that I do, and will forgive me for it. Farewell 1” 

Juanita flew to her sister, embraced her, took leave of the 
excited Edward (who, at the moment, would willingly have 
braved the swords of all the swarthy black bearded guards 
who stood silent and indifferent spectators of the scene), and 
pulling the folds of her haick around her head, signed to the 
£fit old kaid to lead the way. 


222 


THE BERBER, 


As she entered the darkened vestibule, she felt her hand 
pressed, and the voice of the Berber murmured in her ear, 
“Courage and confidence, Juanita — brave, noble, generous 
Juanita! Have faith in me — faith not only in my will, but 
my power!” 

“Faith in him!” muttered Juanita. “Oh! I would sooner 
die than doubt. Oh, Holy Virgin, pardon me! if in this ex- 
tremity of peril, I rely too much on aid of mortal!” 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

It would be difficult to decide which of the two emotions, 
rage or astonishment, rose the highest in the bosom of Fatima, 
as, upon the first tap at the door, in obedience to the orders 
of her master, she drew back the bolts, and gave admittance 
to the Berber and the young Englishman, who entered, sup- 
porting between them the trembling figure of the almost in- 
sensible Isabel. 

Seated apart in the skeffa, but so as to command a view of 
the court, she rolled her head from side to side, gesticulated 
violently, and continued muttering to herself in a gibberish 
of her native dialect, and emitting a stream of squeaks and 
grunts, mingled with her customary Arabic exclamations. 

The appearance of* Isabel, after she had, as she thought, 
disposed of her so effectually, was a mystery that she could 
not comprehend. The idea that Juanita might be taken in 
preference never even entered her head. 

The glance of Xaripha was, for a moment, directed from 
the forn^ of Isabel, who was sobbing in her arms. It sought 
the face of Fatima, and there was that in the eye of the 
young girl that made the old woman shrink with fear, and 
cease her contortions and mutterings. She saw that her 
mistress suspected her agency, and that Xaripha’s glance in- 
dicated a degree of anger that might not be easily appeased. 

But her astonishment mounted almost to terror, as, upon 
replying to another tap, the opened door gave admittance to 
the rais. She had never before seen the famous rover, except 
on that one unfortunate time when bidding adieu to Isabel in 
the patio of the adjoining house^ and she had np idea of thp 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


223 


relationship or the likeness of the brothers. As the rais 
threw back the hood of his djellabeah, and disclosed features 
the exact counterpart of the lovor of Xaripha, the old woman 
uttered a prolonged ‘‘Yah! yah!’' and retreated to the further 
corner of the skeffa. A profound conviction of the agency 
of djins rushed upon her mind, and it was some time before 
she could so far recover herself as to close and secure the 
door. A little light, however, began to dawn upon her, 
when upon taking a look into the court, she saw Xaripha 
and her lover draw aside, to give room to Hassan, who, with 
impassioned and anxious looks, flung himself by the side of 
the Gaditana. 

It is needless to dwell upon the explanations that followed, 
or upon the dozen plans for the rescue of Juanita, that were 
rapidly proposed, and quickly abandoned as impracticable, 
by the excited rais. 

The consultation was interupted by the Berber, who issued 
from beneath the shadow of the gallery, where, for half an 
hour, or more, he had been sitting in silence, and motionless 
with his knees drawn up to his chin, and his face enveloped 
in the folds of his haick. All eyes were turned to him as he 
advanced. 

Hassan sprang forward, and, placing both hands upon his 
shoulders, looked into his face. 

“Are the eyes of the famous rover of Salee not sharp 
enough to see through a thin coating of paint ?” demanded 
the Berber, with a smile. 

The rais threw his arms round the speaker. Casbin warmly 
returned the embrace, at the same time giving and receiving 
several hearty kisses upon either cheek. 

“A thousand things I would say to thee, oh, friend of my 
heart!’’ exclaimed the rais. “A thousand things I would 
tell thee, oh, companion of my boyhood! but one thing 
swallows up all others at this moment, and that is this maiden 
— this child — who has been seized upon by the hounds of the 
royal harem! What can we do to save her ?” 

“ Nothing,” quietly answered the Berber. 

“Nothing!” exclaimed the rais. “Oh, Casbin Subah 1 
when the lion carried off one of a shepherd’s flock in the 
valley of Zebzah, you sat not by so tamely, and said ‘Nothing !’ 
That lion had your bullet in his brain and your spear in his 
hearty ere he had time to put his prey in his stomach, And 


224 


THE BERBER. 


-when the grandfather of boars ravaged the corn-fields and 
scattered the douahs of Tadulah, you — 

“ Hold !” interposed the Berber. ‘‘ Think not that I value 
the Spanish maiden less than the pet of a shepherd, or than 
a field of wheat, even if it was broad as the great plain of 
Marasche; or think not that I dread the wrath of the Sultan 
more than the rage of the lion or the boar. But to your 
question as to what we can do, I must still answer ^Nothing.’ 
Leave it all to me; at present we must look to the safety of 
these. ’Tis time that we were on our way.” 

Advancing to Isabel, the Berber took her hand. ‘^Courage, 
seiiorita?” he exclaimed. Leave your sister’s fate in my 
hands; with the blessing of God, I shall find some means of 
freeing her from the grasp of the Sultan Queen !” 

‘‘ Can you ? — will you ?” energetically exclaimed Isabel, 
grasping his hand. Oh, senor, I fear it may not be ! Tell 
me when, and by what means.” 

‘‘Ask me not, senorita,” replied Casbin, in a soothing 
tone. “I know not as yet which plan, of several, I shall 
adopt; but, believe me, it will be an effectual one. I feel as 
confident of your sister’s ultimate release as I do of her pre- 
sent safety and bodily comfort.” 

The Berber turi>ed away, and speaking a few words to Ab- 
dallah, advising him to hasten th'ir departure, folded his arms 
and leaned in silent reverie again, t one of the slender columns 
of the gallery. 

The manner of the Berber was cold and abstracted ; but 
there was something in his assurances that aroused feelings 
of hope and confidence in the breast of Isabel — feelings that 
were perhaps somewhat heightened by the presence of her 
lover, and by his ready acquiescence in the suggestion to set 
out from the city, leaving Juanita behind. Could she have 
known, however, how much her lover’s readiness to obey the 
Berber’s injunction was due to a confidence in his power to 
rescue the young girl, and how much of it arose from a con- 
viction that it was of no use longer to wait, connected with 
his anxious desire to put Isabel herself beyond danger— the 
Gaditana would not, perhaps, have so rapidly recovered from 
the first shock, or have been able to tread the streets with so 
firm a step, or guide her horse with so steady a hand. 

Isabel’s Avas that yielding, impressible, waxy nature, that 
by many men is esteemed the true type and standard of 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


225 


feminine character. Like a bar of soft iron possessing no 
magnetic tension of its own, but eminently capable of it by 
induction, she readily acknowledged the influence of her 
mental magnet. Her mind assumed a degree of polarity, and 
at once pointed as willed the rais. He said, set out for the 
hills,” and Isabel obeyed with alacrity; although not half an 
hour before she had made up her mind that death, slavery, 
anything, would be preferable to going and leaving her sister 
behind. 

In a few minutes all were in readiness, there being no heavy 
baggage to delay their departure. A few small packages of 
jewels and a moderate store or provisions were all with 
which it was thought prudent to encumber themselves. 

Selim was dispatched by the rais with orders to the crew 
to guard their prisoners until morning, when they were to 
leave the city and return to Salee. The rais promised to join 
them in a few days, and in the meantime they were to await 
quietly his appearance, and if any inquiries were made as to 
his absence, to reply that the rover was kept at court by busi- 
ness with the Sultan. 

It was a clear starlight night in which the party issued 
into the street. Abdallah led the way, followed by Hassan 
and Isabel; and then came Xaripha and Edward, followed by 
Fatima, who, despite the cautions of her master, could not 
help muttering to herself her wonder at the mysterious move- 
ments to which she found herself a party. The Berber brought 
up the rear. Several barriers, with closed gates, stretching 
across the streets, and thus dividing the town into numerous 
small sections, were encountered ; but, at a word from the 
chief kaid of the gates, they were flung open, and the party 
allowed to pass without question. 

Arrived at the gate in the principal or outer wall of the 
city, some little delay took place, but as soon as the kaid was 
recognized, the bolts of the small wicket in the great gate 
were drawn back, and free egress offered. 

God is God 1” exclaimed a loud voice, as the travelers 
stepped beneath the arch of the gateway ; ‘‘ and may the angel 
of night guard from evil spirits all those who travel in the 
shade of his wings. Peace to the Mussulman. God is God! 
and there is none other 1 ” 

It was the voice of the baker; and in his salutation the 
Berber recognized the signal that had been agreed upon, and 


226 


THE BERBER, 


an assurance that there was no movement against his people, 
concealed by the wily Sultan under the proposed military 
fete. The mind of the chieftain was relieved from one 
source of apprehension, and could now devote itself more 
exclusively to a consideration of the subject that was heaviest 
at the hearts of all, not even excepting Fatima, who, now that 
she had begun to get an idea of the true state of the case, 
shuddered to think that she had been the means of throwing 
the young Spanish girl into the power of the cruel and selfish 
Sultan Queen. 

A short half hour’s walk brought the travelers to the crumb- 
ling wall surrounding a saint’s house. The sanctorium itself 
consisted of a small square building, containing a single room, 
and surmounted by a dome. An arched entrance, without a 
door, served for air and light. The floor was paved with 
coarse bricks, but upon the wood work of the roof were the 
remains of fine carving and gilding, and upon the cracked 
and crumbling walls weae traces of that elegant and 'fanciful 
arabesque for which Moorish art was once so famed. Within 
the enclosure, and around the dilapidated sanctorium, the 
ground was overgrown with brambles and gigantic cacti, so 
that there was hardly clear space enough for the mules and 
horses that, by the provision of the kaid, were assembled 
under the charge of a slave. 

It took a few minutes to adjust the saddles, and to assist 
the females to their seats on the backs of the mules. In this 
the Berber offered no assistance, and made no suggestion. In 
silence he threw himself into the saddle, sat quietly for a 
moment, and then suddenly striking his spurs into his steed, 
a fine large gray, jumped him over the wall of the enclosure 
into the road. The barb, somewhat astonished at the un- 
expected call upon his agility, snorted with excitement as he 
reached the sloping ground on the other side; but as he 
crouched from the shock, and rose again, ready to launch out 
into the plain, his motions were arrested by a powerful arm 
that compelled him to instant quiet. Like a statue stood the 
horse beneath his motionless rider, until Hassan and Abdallah, 
mounting their horses, led their party through the gate and 
around by the walls to the road. As soon as they came in 
sight, the Berber wheeled his horse and placed himself at the 
head of the travelers; preserving from them a variable dis- 
tance, but always sufficient to prevent any conversation. At 


j A TALE OF MOROCCO* ^27 

j Oi^e moment both horse and rider would be distinctly visible 
' in the clear starlight; the next, the gray barb would spring 
' forward and disappear in the darkness, leaving, however, 

' sufficient indication to the travelers in the sound of his 
hoofs, and in the crowd of sparks that, like a swarm of fire- 
flies, started up from the flinty ground, and flitted after his 
footsteps. 

As the travelers moved on as rapidly as the darkness and 
the nature of the road would permit, their attention became 
gradually diverted from themselves to the strange actions of 
their guide. At first they supposed his eccentric movements 
had relation to their own safety ; but soon it was seen that 
they could have no such object. The very demon of rest- 
lessness seemed to have taken possession of both steed and 
rider; and after each disappearance, all eyes were strained to 
watch for their return. 

^^He’s a djin; yah, yah! he’s a djin. I know him this 
time,” muttered Fatima, as from her high saddle she saw the 
gray barb glint by for the twentieth time. 

‘‘ Quiet yourself, dearest,” replied the rais, to a whisper 
from Isabel. There is no immediate danger. If there 
were, the Berber chief would be more cautious in his move- 
ments.” 

He rides more like some wild demon than like a trusty 
guide,” returned Isabel. 

‘‘ But none the less to be trusted for all that,” replied the 
rais. 

And Juanita ? — ” 

^Hs the very subject of his thoughts at this moment. I 
have known him well since his early boyhood ; and I know 
the effect of mental excitement upon his strong bodily and 
muscular vitality. Believe me, he is revolving some scheme 
for her rescue, and his sudden spurrings are but the emphatic 
marks in the current of his thoughts.” 

But has he the power ?” 

He loves your sister?” replied the rais, stretching out his 
hand to Isabel. 

‘ ‘ I think that he does.” 

‘‘ Then rest assured that she is safe. I know his resources 
of will and wit — they are boundless. I verily believe that if 
it served his purposes to do so, he could carry off the favorite 
of the royal harem ^rom the side of the Sultan, despite of all 


228 


THE BERBER, 


bars and guards. You recollect his adventure with the sheik 
of Arbazza ?” continued the rais, addressing Abdallah. 

Can I have forgotten a feat, the fame of which yet echoes 
throughout the valleys of Tedler replied the kaid. 

He was but a boy — scarce twelve years of age ; but it was 
a deed that put to shame the oldest heroes of the tents.” 

Xaripha and Edward drew up closer to the speaker. The 
rais looked around cautiously for a few moments. The coun- 
try was open, and no signs of human life near. 

‘^The sheik of Arbazza was a shereef and a saint,” began 
the rais, in a low but distinct voice. He was of a pure 
Arabic stock, and a bitter hater of the Berbers. He was also 
the wealthiest man in all the kingdom of Fez; and among 
his riches he possessed one thing that he valued more than all 
the rest — a mare of the most famous blood of Duquella. 
Her pedigree could be traced back for ages, and the fame 
of her beauty and her speed filled the whole land. She was 
a thorough-bred Meafener’ and ^wind-drinker.’ She was 
as the apple of his eye; and proud was the sheik of Arbazza 
that he was the owner of a creature that for beauty, fire, 
speed,, and endurance, could not be matched, travel the 
world over. 

The sheik of Arbazza was at feud with several of his 
neighbors, both of plain and hill; and numerous attempts 
were made by his enemies, and, if the truth must be told, by 
several of his friends, to dispossess him of his favorite. But 
the sheik was a wary man, and vain were all the efforts of 
treacherous friends and open enemies. He was also a boastful 
and an arrogant man; and he prided himself not a little in 
his ability to defeat and punish any attempt to carry off the 
descendant of the famous Maha el Bahr^ ot ^^steed of the sea.” 
Already had several gallant and adventurous spirits perished, 
and more had failed, and been driven back in disgrace, when 
the vanity of the sheik slipped the bridle of prudence, and 
galloped off with him without check or restraint. He pub- 
lished an invitation to all who felt disposed to steal his famous 
mare. He announced a defiance to the boldest and most 
adroit horse-stealers in all the empire. He even offered, in 
his vain sense of security, a reward of a thousand gold metcals 
to whoever should succeed in carrying off El Hassaneh^ or 
the Beautiful. Of course, after this, the watchfulness of the 
sheik was not relaxed, or jiis precautions decreased. Each 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. ^29 

night the mare was picketed by the door of his tent. One 
end of an iron chain was put around her leg, and locked, and 
the key deposited in the sheik’s girdle; the other end of the 
chain was brought within the tent, passed under the sheik’s 
bed, and fastened to the tent-pole. Within reach of his hand 
stood his loaded gun, the match always burning — and the 
sheik was the most famous marksman of the tribes. Without 
the tent a pack of the largest and fiercest -dogs threatened 
every intruder with instant death. 

Among the enemies of the sheik the principal one con- 
sisted of a portion of the Beni Mozarg; and of course no- 
thing would have delighted the Berbers more than for one 
of their number to have achieved the feat of carrying off the 
sheik’s famous mare. On the one hand was every induce- 
ment to attempt the adventure — pride, revenge, the love of 
glory, and an admiration of horse-flesh; but on the other 
hand, there were too many obstacles in the way — the distance 
to the plains; the difficulty of approaching the douah; the 
canine guards; the chain; and more than all, the watchluh 
ness and prowess of the sheik. These obstacles had been 
found by repeated experiments insurmountable, and the very 
bravado of the sheik, while it was looked upon as the worst 
of insults, helped to deter the boldest of the Berbers from 
undertaking the adventure. 

At that time Casbin, son of the amekran of the Beni Mo- 
zarg, was scarce turned of thirteen, but already had he killed 
the king of beasts, and acquired the name of el subah, or the 
lion. It was noticed that the young prince was for days busy 
in constructing a strong basket, or rather cage. The holes in 
it were just wide enough to admit a hound’s nose; and the 
withes were of the stoutest kind, and wound with strips of 
untanned hide. The basket excited much curiosity, but not 
a word did the young chieftain vouchsafe as to the purpose 
to which it was to be applied. But great was the surprise 
when catching a common cat, he enclosed her in the basket, 
and securely fastened the door. 

It was in a terrible storm of snow that Casbin, with his 
cage and cat strapped behind his saddle, set out secretly from 
the kassir. Toward night he reached the low land and the 
neighborhood of the tents of the sheik. Under cover of the 
storm, which had changed as he descended to one of rain, 
mingled with sleet, he approached quite near to the douah, 


230 


THE BERBER, 


Here he remained until some time after midnight, when, 
mounting, he rode boldly up to the sheik’s tent. The dogs 
were wide awake, and in full chorus, but they were busy with 
some other object of alarm, and did not perceive him until he 
was within fifty yards. He stopped, uttered the cry of a 
jackal, and instantly the whole pack came bounding towards 
him. Casbin lowered the cage to the ground and retreated. 
The attention of the dogs was wholly engrossed by the cat. 
They thrust the points of their noses into the meshes of the 
basket; they rolled it over and over; they shook it and 
tried to pull it to pieces with their paws and teeth; they 
fought with each other in their eagerness for a bite. They 
had no eyes, ears, noses, or mouths for anything except the 
cat. 

Making a detour, Casbin came upon the tent from the 
other side. At a proper distance he slipped from his horse, 
secured him in a moment, and advanced to the tent slowly. 
Noiselessly, with his breast to the ground, the ygung prince 
crept up and put his head in under the curtain. All was 
dark, save a faint glimmer that came from the women’s 
apartment. The sheik was asleep. Casbin drew his body 
into the tent. The first thing he did was to feel for the gun, 
which he noiselessly emptied of the bail, and replaced in 
its position. He then drew his knife, and stretching him- 
self by the side of the sheik, deliberately began cutting 
through his woollen sash, first on one side and then on the 
other. The slumbers of the sheik were far from sound, but 
so quietly and skilfully was the operation conducted, that he 
was not awakened, nor any alarm given to the other inmates 
of the tent. 

The front turns of the sash were lifted from the sleeper. 
Upon running his hands through the folds Casbin lighted at 
once upon the key. The most difficult part of the adventure 
was achieved. Casbin stuck his dagger in the ground in 
front of the sheik’s face, and as slowly and as noiselessly as 
before crept under the door curtain of the tent. 

There stood the noble animal — El Hassaneh^ the Beauti- 
ful. The rain had ceased ; the clouds had suddenly broken 
;away, and the bright starlight, mingled with the first faint 
sheen of dawn, revealed her beautiful proportions to the 
young prince. But not long did he tarry to admire. He 
took one look to m.akg sure that it was indeed she, the much-» 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 23 1 

praised and oft-described beauty, and then, applying the key 
to the padlock, liberated her foot from the chain. He threw 
over her head a hempen bridle. He freed her fetlocks from 
the cords by which she was picketed. He vaulted on her 
back. 

‘‘Oh, Sheik Alif’ shouted the youth, come forth and bid 
adieu to your favorite !” 

No answer was returned, and Casbin, springing lightly to 
the ground, seized the end of the chain, and giving it a 
vigorous shake, vaulted again to the back of El Hassaneh. 

“Come forth, oh most arrogant sheik of Arbazza!” shouted 
Casbin. “Your mare will not leave you without returning 
you thanks for your favors.” 

The curtain of the tent was thrown violently aside. One 
glance showed to the horror-stricken sheik his favorite freed 
from her chain, and with some one on her back. He hesi- 
tated not an instant. With a groan of rage, he raised his 
gun to his shoulder and fired. What was his astonishment 
to find that the audacious rider still preserved his seat. 

The report of the gun and the burst of boyish laughter 
that followed it, aroused all the inhabitants of the douah. 
The Arabs came pouring out of their tents. 

“ Oh, most renowned sheik;” cried the prince. “ Thou 
former master of El Hassaneh ! Disturb not thy soul with 
passion, and be not above listening to advice from the 
beardless. Never, oh, sheik! attempt to shoot any one with- 
out a ball in your gun. Ha! ha! ha! And as to your mare, 
comfort yourself. I have taken her, but it is merely an ex- 
change. I leave you a very good horse. The thousand 
metcals you offered as a reward you can keep to make up the 
difference between him and the mare. A beautiful day to 
you, oh sheik! and may the Lord guard you with better care 
than you have bestowed upon El Hassaneh.” 

The young prince wheeled his well-won treasure, and giving 
her the rein, was off like a bolt from a bow. Terrible were 
the shouts of rage that arose behind him, and then a sudden 
volley sent the bullets flying after him; but what with the 
distance and the darkness, they flew wide of the mark. 

And then such a saddling of horses, and such a mounting 
in haste. The only hope, of course, was to catch him by 
tiring the mare down by relays of horses, picked up at the 
different douahs that should be passed. But it was in vain. 


532 


THE BERBER. 


The horsemen of village after village, with fresh steeds 
joined in the chase; but El Hassaneh carried light weight, 
and at a steady pace, that equaled the full speed of the fresh- 
est of her pursuers, she winged her way ere mid-day across 
the plains, and paused for breath only amid the thickets on 
the slopes of the mountains. 

The rais paused ; but before any of his auditors had an op- 
portunity to make any comments, the hero of the story him- 
self dashed up, and drew rein beside the group. 

We will here make a large detour,” he exclaimed, to 
avoid some parties of blacks who are eating up the tribute 
of several villages of Arabs hereabout. We must reach the 
thicket of ilex, on our left, before it grows much lighter. 
Close up, keep silence, and move a little faster.” 

The manner of the Berber was abrupt, and his voice some- 
what stern; but there was something in its tone that spoke of 
confidence in himself, and, consequently, bespoke confi- 
dence in his hearers. Without reply they spurred up their 
beasts, and followed the lead of the gray barb and his rider, 
whose mood seemed to have suddenly changed from one of 
furious restlessness to extreme quiet — the gray ambling along 
as soberly as Fatima’s mule, and his master preserving his po- 
sition at the head of the party in silence, excepting occa- 
sionally humming, in a low tone, snatches of a Berber song. 

The scraggy oak and pine covering was reached as the sun 
was rising over the lofty Atlas. Keeping just within shelter 
of the wood, so as to be screened from observation, the Ber- 
ber again turned to the East, and moving on until the sun 
was fifteen or twenty degrees above the horizon, halted his 
party for breakfast in an open glade, where a slender thread 
of water trickled down a ledge of rocks. The soil around 
was freshly furrowed in various directions— the marks of the 
wild boar, in his search after truffles; but no ‘^Father of 
Tusks ” appeared to disturb their repast. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

The sun had declined from the meridian far enough to 
give the shadows of the travelers a perceptible inclination 
toward the East, when emerging from the wood into the 
open plain, their course was directed by the Berber a little 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


233 


more to the south of east. The foot of the hills was close at 
hand, and far in the distance, to the west, were the domes 
and minarets of the capital. 

As they came ' > a small elevation of ground, overgrown 
with palmetto bri^ \es and wild thistle, the Berber halted 
the party, dismounted, and, throwing the rein of his horse 
to thekaid, plunged into the bushes and ascended the hil- 
lock, which commanded an extensive view of the plain. 

In a few moments he retivrned, bringing with him a man 
whom he introduced to the travelers as their future guide. 
The Berber assured the travelers that all dangers were passed, 
and that they might trust themselves in perfect confidence to 
the guidance of the man before them, who was one of his 
most faithful followers, and one of the chain of advanced sen- 
tinels that it had been found essential to push out from the 
base of the hills. 

You see those ruins on the crest of that cliff,” said Cas- 
bin, pointing to the objects indicated by his speech. They 
are about two hours’ ride from this spot, by the direct road; 
but as you had better, perhaps, deviate a little to avoid the 
only Arab douah that lies hereabout, it may take you until 
near sunset to reach them. But once there, and you are per- 
fectly safe. The ruins, which are the remains of an old Ro- 
man castle, stand upon the further brink of a narrow but 
deep ravine, spanned by a bridge of ropes; cross the bridge, 
enter the ruins, and take up your quarters there until I join 
you. Fear not to be disturbed. The spot has the reputation 
throughout the empire of being the worst haunt of djins and 
evil spirits of any place in the world. You are not afraid of 
spirits; and as for the Moors, or, for the matter of that, my 
own countrymen, there are not five men in all Barbary who 
could be hired to enter the crumbling archway. Rest, with- 
out fear, until to-morrow evening, when I will join you, and 
shall bring with me — ” \ 

‘‘My sister?” exclaimed Isabel, with emotion. “Oh, 
seiior, promise that you will do so; promise that you will free 
her, and bring her with — ” 

“ Nay, senorita,” said the Berber, advancing his horse 
and taking her hand. “I cannot promise that; but I do 
promise to bring you news of her, and good news, too. Till 
then, adios!” and waving his hand, he spurred his horse and 
galloped off in the direction of the city. 


tHL 


234 THE BERBER, 

Before resuming their advance, the rais put a few ques- 
tions to the guide; but the man evinced a decided indisposi- 
tion to answer, and his replies were expressed in an almost 
incomprehensible jargon of Berber and Arabic. He admitted, 
however, that he had been on the watch since morning, and 
that from his post his eye had commanded a distant view of 
bodies of horses coming out of the city, and moving towards 
the field of Sakel. He said that there was nothing to fear 
even from the village of Arabs that his master had mentioned, 
but inasmuch as he had been directed to lead the party around 
rather than by it, he should do so, and that there was nothing 
more to be said about it. Pulling the straps of his sandals 
and tightening his belt, the fellow shrank with a dogged air 
from any further questioning, and placing himself at the head 
of the party, led off at a rapid step, which he slackened not 
for three hours. Twining round and round, amid the little 
hillocks dotting the country, or carefully threading the 
water gulleys and dry beds of rivulets, he conducted the 
travelers through an open and apparently, as viewed from a 
distance, a level country, without their coming in sight of a 
living creature save a few stray sheep or wandering cows, 
with the tall white cow-birds perched upon their backs or 
stalking by their sides. 

During the latter part of their course the path had been 
gradually ascending. Suddenly, upon gaining a clear and 
level piece of ground, the whole country behind them 
opened to their view. The city lay within sight, and at 
first they were quite startled to see it so distinctly, and ap- 
parently so near. The plain of Sakel, about half way be- 
tween the city and this position, was pointed out by the 
guide. Although ten or twelve miles distant, the moving 
masses of horsemen and the tall white tents of the Sultan 
could be discerned. 

In front of them, and right across their path, yawned a 
ravine, with almost perpendicular .sides, and nearly two hun- 
dred feet deep. Some powerful shock of an earthquake had 
riven the slaty rock; and away on either side for miles the gap 
extended with a varying width of from two to three hundred 
feet. Just where they stood the ravine was the narrowest; 
the projection of two corresponding crags approximating the 
sides to within a distance of fifty feet. Advantage had been 
taken of this approximation to throw across a bridge of cords. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


235 


The construction of this bridge was exceedingly simple; and, 
although narrow and slight, it offered a secure passage to 
horsemen as well as pedestrians. Four small, but strong cords 
of twisted hide were stretched from side to side, and firmly 
secured to wooden pegs driven into holes in the rock. Upon 
these cords rested thin planks of oak. Thongs, passed through 
holes in the planks, fastened the planks to the cords. No 
parapets protected the sides. 

A few bridges of the kind are 'to be fbund in the present 
day in Morocco; but they are wholly confined to mountain 
ravines. This kind of bridge would hardly answer for wide 
rivers, with, perhaps, low muddy banks; and the Moors have 
not the engineering skill to build any that would; although 
the absence of bridges is not, perhaps, owing so much to a 
want of skill as to the general debasement and misery of the 
people, and the selfish and unenlightened tyranny of the 
government. One or two structures of ancient date remain 
and the ruins of others are still to , be seen ; but, in general, 
the rivers of Morocco are crossed by fording and swimming, 
or in boats, and on rafts buoyed up by bundles of reeds or 
inflated skins. 

The kaid and his party hesitated before setting foot on a 
structure apparently so slight and so frail, and, notwithstand- 
ing the assurances of the Berber guide that it would sup- 
port the weight of as many horsemen as could be crowded 
on it, the kaid insisted upon dismounting, and crossing it 
first on foot. 

A few minutes’ climbing up a winding and precipitous path 
brought the travelers to an opening over an arched gateway 
in the crumbling walls, indicated by the Berber chief. Beyond 
this the guide refused to go. Even the rais and kaid entered 
with a look of caution and suspicion. Within, there was a 
large open enclosure, several hundred feet square, overgrown 
-with bushes, amid which gleamed the marble of broken and 
fallen cornice, architrave and column. A space was cleared; 
carpets spread; the horses picketed, and a fire lighted. Fa- 
tima busied herself in preparing supper. Kaid Abdallah re- 
mained with the maidens; while the rais and his brother set 
forth to make an examination of the ruins, as a proper pre- 
caution to passing the night in a place so desolate and so 
likely to harbor wild animals; to say nothing of djins or the 
ghosts of defunct Mauritanians, Romans, and Goths, who, as 


236 


THE BERBER, 


it was believed, still haunted the scene of their ancient or^ 
gies and feuds. 

The examination was in every way satisfactory; but we will 
not follow the movements and doings of the party further at 
present. We must leave them for the night, as it best suits 
our purposes to devote the conclusion pf the chapter to the 
movements of the Amekran of the Beni Mozarg. 

Upon bidding adieu to the party that he had conducted 
safely through the most dangerous part of their journey, 
Casbin directed his course across the country toward the 
city, distant perhaps some twenty miles. The gray barb was 
of good blood, and answered to the spur at the top of his 
speed, for an hour, when suddenly drawing rein in front of a 
cluster of black tents, concealed in the hollow of a water- 
course, Casbin sprang to the ground. Theshiek advanced to 
receive him with the customary salutations, but suddenly 
changing from Arabic to Berber, a few words were exchanged 
in the latter language, when disappearing behind the tents for 
a moment, he again emerged, leading a gaunt roan by a halter 
of palmetto cord. The saddle and bridle of the gray were 
quickly changed to the roan, when, vaulting to his back, the 
Berber held out his hand to be kissed, and then, striking his 
spurs into the fresh barb’s shrunken flanks, was off again at 
full speed. 

As the sun disappeared below the horizon, he stopped at an 
enclosure, surrounded' by a fence of tall reeds. Upon a sig- 
nal the gate was opened by a man with red hair and beard, 
and blue eyes, who seemed to expect the Berber to enter; 
but, dismounting, the chieftain threw him the bridle, and in- 
dicated, rather by gestures than by words, that the horse was 
to be led within. 

Will not my lord come in?” said the man. 

No, good Red-beard, I have not time. Take in this beast 
and feed him, and have him ready for me by midnight. Bo- 
roon — how is he ?” 

The son of El Hassaneh is well,” replied the man; but 
he cries for his master.” 

Give him one meal of dates to-night, and no water — 
nothing but camel’s milk. Groom him thoroughly — spare no 
pains or labor. I have need of him in his best condition to- 
morrow. See to it. Red-beard — and have him also ready for 
me at midnight.” 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


237 


The Berber turned away. A walk of ten minutes sur- 
mounted a gentle elevation, and brought him to the gate of the 
city, which was not yet locked for the night. Without ques- 
tion he passed in, and threading the narrow streets, made his 
way to the palace. The gate was open, and everything gave 
token of a relaxation of discipline, which, under the best of 
circumstances, was never very strict. The departure of the 
Sultan, who had set out for the field of Sakel, and the ab- 
sence of the kaid of the gates, had left the guards to their 
own inclinations, and the greater part of them were dis- 
persed in the neighboring coffee-houses, where they were 
busily engaged in breaking the long fast of the day. 

Slaves were passing in and out and no objection was 
offered by any one to the entrance of the Berber. Arrived, 
however, at the gate of the harem, admission was refused by 
a surly black eunuch, who, armed with his filela, kept watch 
and ward over the female slaves, whose duties required thenci 
to visit the cobahs or storehouses, in different parts of the 
palace. The Berber quietly seated himself upon the ground, 
so as to command a view of the slaves as they passed ; but 
vainly he waited for some one with whom he could safely 
communicate, to appear. It became quite dark. From 
within dne of the innumerable open patios of the harem 
gleamed upward the light of torches, while the tinkling of 
guitars, and the sounds of female voices in song, were up- 
borne on the still air. The Berber rose, and gliding along 
the labyrinth of the outside courts and gardens, gained a 
position where the walls of the harem alone separated him 
from the musicians. Just above his head, and almost within 
reach of his hand, were two slender loopholes, for the pur- 
pose of giving light to one of the rooms surrounding the small 
patio. A heavy cylinder of wood, used as a garden-roller, 
was lying at hand. Placed on its end against the wall, it 
proved just long enough to enable the young man to reach 
the loop-holes with his hands, and draw himself up, so as to 
see into the room, and through two or three open arches into 
the court. 

His position, liable as he was at any moment to discovery 
by some wandering custodian of the palace grounds, was full 
of danger; but all risk was amply repaid by the sight which 
mei; his eyes. Seated upon a low couch, beneath a silken 
canopy, sat the young Gaditana. Around her were half a 


THE EERBER, 


238 

dozen girls, in various attitudes of respect ; before her 

two Egyptian dancing girls were posturing, in their graceful, 
but lascivious style, to the sound of castanets and guitars; 
slaves were moving about with trays of fruit and confection- 
ery. At the first glance the Berber comprehended the whole 
scene. Knowing well the designs of the Sultana, he saw the 
hand of the astute old negress in this effort to divert the mind 
of the young girl, and to beguile her with the pleasures of 
harem life. 

Juanita gazed with a listless air upon the dancers. Her 
thoughts appeared to be employed upon far different subjects, 
and yet her face occasionally wore an air of constraint, as if, 
in obedience to the dictates of policy, she forced herself to 
appear pleased with the attentions of those around her. 
There was, however, nothing desponding in her looks; on the 
contrary, there flashed from her eyes, every now and then, a 
look almost of triumph, that gradually subsiding, left, as 
predominant over all other emotions, an expression of quiet 
confidence. 

The heart of the young man throbbed with the intense 
desire to make known his presence to the captive. It was with 
the view of opening some communication with her, and of 
sending her some message of encouragement and affection, 
that he had ventured within the palace walls; but he had had 
no opportunity of concerting measures with any of the harem 
inmates, and he had been compelled to trust to chance. In 
one point he had been fortunate beyond his expectations. 
He had been so lucky as to obtain a sight of the object of his 
affections, and to assure himself that she was in no danger of 
immediate ill-treatment. He saw her, not as his imagination 
had pictured her; abandoned to grief, doubt and fear, but 
calm, composed, and confident. It was the mien that best 
suited the high and self-relying spirit which had been fed 
upon visions of Berber nationality, until it had outgrown all 
relation to circumstances and details, except that of master 
and slave; and a thrill of passionate admiration quickened 
the pulses of his heart as the conviction grew upon him that 
her composure was the result of confidencein him — his affec- 
tion, his will, his power. 

He longed to apprise her of his presence, and, although she 
apparently needed them not, to whisper a few words* of hope. 
For a moment he felt almost irresistibly impelled to call out 


A tAlfi OS' MOkOCOO. 


^39 


name through the loophole, but the habitual prudence of 
the chieftain prevailed over the natural impetuosity of the 
youth and the lover. 

“ No, no,” he muttered. I will risk nothing. Luckily it 
is not necessary for her sake — her’s is no whining, whimper- 
ing nature. How beautiful she is — and how queen-like ! She 
— a girl ! By heavens she shall become an empress I How 
composed she sits — how indifferent she looks 1 She gazes at 
that indecent posturing, but she sees it not. Ha ! she turns 
her head ! What contempt — what scorn! By the Virgin 
she adores, she is as pure of soul as she is lovely of form and 
face I — I should be a fool to doubt it.” 

The sound of male voices in loud conversation came from 
the neighborhood of the harem gate. The young prince 
leaped to the ground, replaced the roller, and stealing along 
in the shadow of the walls, threaded the intricate courts and 
passages with a rapid step. He apprehended no obstacle to 
his egress, but still he did not feel easy until he had passed, 
too quickly for recognition, or even salutation, the last lazy 
sentinel at the palace gates. The sight of Juanita had 
aroused a full sense of the value, to her, of his personal free- 
dom ; and love had succeeded in exciting a sensitiveness to 
danger which he had never before felt, and which the fate 
of empire, the welfare of his own tribe, or the natural love of 
life, would have failed to inspire. 

It was with a buoyant spirit that he plunged into the nar- 
row and crooked streets, where, however, it would take up 
too much of our space to follow him step by step. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

‘‘Come to prayers! Come to prayers!” drawled the mued- 
dins from the tops of the minarets. The first flush of dawn 
rapidly diffused itself over the eastern sky. The gates were 
thrown open, and through the gaping portals poured a stream 
of turbaned heads, citizens and soldiers, horse and foot, young 
and old, all rushing to the plain of El Sakel. Outside the 
walls numerous parties of tent-dwellers, indifferently mounted 
on camels, horses, and donkeys, might have been seen coming 


240 


THE BERBER, 


from their sea tiered douahs, all wending their way to the 
scene of the expected Lab el Barode. 

And well worth a walk of ten or twelve miles was the sight 
of El Sakel on that morning, as twenty thousand men rose 
from their night’s bivouac, and mounting their horses, began 
careering across the plain — the only attempt at order being 
an effort on the part of each troop to keep as close as pos^ 
sible to its own particular kaid. As the sun rose, fresh 
bodies came pouring in from the country around, until full 
thirty thousand were present. By eleven o’clock in the day, 
an equal number, composed of mounted Moors from the city, 
and Arabs from the tents, had assembled, and besides these 
there were countless hosts of pedestrians. 

. No spot of ground could have been found better adapted 
to the review and exercise of a large body of cavalry than 
the plain which had been selected. Three or four miles in 
length by one in breadth, and perfectly level, it presented a 
fine, hard, turfy substance. At the eastern side it was crossed 
by a slender tributary of the Ordom, beyond which the 
country stretched in an open plain, but comparatively 
broken and rough, to the foot of the hills. At the western 
extremity was a gentle elevation, surmounted by several large 
tents, in the centre of which, and conspicuous above all, 
stood the royal marquee, with its silken curtains and its ban- 
ners of crimson and green. 

The sun was within an hour of the meridian before any 
degree of order began to be evolved from the apparently inex- 
tricable confusion prevailing over the ground. The discharge 
of a small field-piece gave the signal. Furiously the kaids 
rode up and down, screaming their orders at the top of their 
lungs. Gradually the black troops began to arrange them- 
selves in compact masses on one side, while the Moorish 
horsemen and populace occupied the other. 

Suddenly the roar of artillery, a grand flourish of trumpets, 
and the crash of a thousand cymbals and kettle-drums an- 
nounced the approach of the Sultan. Mounted upon a horse 
magnificently caparisoned, and surrounded by a small 
body qf richly dressed negro slaves on foot, he issued from 
the curtained enclosure of the royal tent, and wheeled into 
the broad avenue formed by the masses of soldiers, citizens 
and Bedouins. 

The Sultan himself was habited very plainly, in his usual 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


241 


garb, a fine white haick and a monstrous turban ; but gorgeous 
were the garments of his attendants. The crimson caftans of 
the body slaves and executioners, were thickly encrusted with 
the richest gold lace; v^hile their bare necks and arms were 
loaded with jeweled chains and bracelets. Two bearers on 
either side supported by long poles, a large crimson umbrella 
over the monarch’s head. Slowly, and with as pleasant a 
smile as it was possible for his toothless mouth to assume, he 
paced adown the lines. Two favorite kaids of the Soudan 
troops, with hands upon the bit, restrained the impatience of 
the fiery steed; while, at every three or four steps, the slaves 
on either side, turning to the soldiers and the populace, and 
bowing low, exclaimed — 

Sidi is well to-day!” 

‘‘Sidi is well to-day!” repeated the crowd, in slow and 
measured toiie. “Sidi is well to-day! Thank God! God 
preserve Sidi!” at the same time bending the body, and 
placing the hand upon the head. Again and again was the 
same announcement made, and the same reply. At first a 
few voices took up the words, and from them they gradually 
spread to the assembled multitude, until they swelled upon 
the ear like the roar of the coming tornado, and then died 
away to the gentle murmur of the fitful breeze. 

Arrived at the further side of the plain, and near the banks 
of the little stream we have mentioned, the Sultan dismounted. 
A thick carpet or rug, was spread upon the ground, and 
upon this was placed a large, richly ornamented morocco 
cushion. Muley Ismael seated himself upon the cushion; his 
slaves and guards drew off behind him. The principal officers 
and dignitaries arranged themselves on either hand and a 
little in the rear. Mingled with these were several renegades 
and the members of a French mission which had recently 
arrived with propositions for the ransom of certain slaves. 
At the feet of the Sultan gamboled his favorite son — the 
child we have before mentioned — an infant of some three 
years of age, and the only privileged intruder upon the nar- 
row bounds of the imperial carpet. To many of the spec- 
tators, this child was an. object of more interest than any 
thing else in the pageant. The doting fondness of his father 
was well known, and by not a few was it surmised that the 
desire to secure to him thesuccession would endanger the lives 
of his elder brothers and their adherents. 


242 


THE BERBER, 


In front of the Sultan’s position, and running directly by 
the edge of the imperial carpet, was a broad, firm, well- 
trodden piece of ground. No grass grew* upon it; every 
blade having been trampled out in the frequently repeated 
exhibitions of equestrian skill, of which it had been the scene. 
The crowding of the troops, despite the desperate efforts of 
the keepers of the ground, reduced this space to a long, 
narrow avenue, flanked by dense masses of horsemen on the 
one side, with the imperial cortege and the banks of the 
watercourse on the other. Luckily for the pedestrians, there 
was at this end of the plain a number of elevations that com- 
manded a view of the ground. 

The Sultan gave the signal for the game to begin. Sepa- 
rating themselves from a body of picked horsemen, a small 
party of five or six, all of whom were captains in either the 
black or-Moorish troops, dashed forward at full speed. Their 
generous chargers, urged to the highest exertion by the 
strongly aspirated Ha, ha! Ha, ha!” of the riders, and the 
free use of the cruel Moorish spur, an instrument having, for 
rowel, a large iron spike of from five to eight inches in length, 
strained every muscle. Twirling their long guns round their 
heads, the horsemen brought them down, with the butts 
resting squarely against their breasts, and the barrels inclined 
downward over the heads of their steeds. Upon reaching 
the spot where the Sultan was seated,' and just as they were 
about to dash by him, their pieces were simultaneously dis- 
charged; and each man drawing rein, the course of they 
horses was instantaneously checked. With haunches almost 
touching the ground, and quivering throughout every fibre, 
from the intense exertion of the sudden check to which thee 
were forced by the powerful Moorish bit, they rested a 
moment; the horsemen threw their muskets with a whirling 
motion into the air, recovered their horses with a single 
demivolte, and, wheeling slowly, walked them back to the 
place from whence they started. 

Another party succeeded, going through the same evolu- 
tions, and then giving place to others who rapidly followed. 
Now and then a single horseman darted forth, and varied the 
monotony of the game by some extraordinary display of 
equestrian skill, which was always liberally rewarded with 
shouts of applause. Jumping to the ground, and again vault- 
ing to the saddle; bending down and touching the ground, 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


243 


and standing up in the saddle at full speed, were severally at- 
tempted. These feats, comparatively easy in the circus, 
where the motion of the horse is perfectly true, and where the 
rider can oppose centrifugal force to the attraction of gravity, 
are known to be extremely difficult in a straight course, espe- 
cially the latter one; and it was only for a moment that the 
boldest and most dexterous of those who attempted it could 
retain their balance. They were no sooner on their feet than 
they were compelled to sink again to their seats in the saddle, 
or, as happened in two or three instances, be pitched head- 
long to the ground. Still, every attempt to ride standing up 
in the saddle, even at half speed, if successful only for a mo- 
ment, received the loudest plaudits of the multitude. The 
same feat by two horsemen riding together seemed to be much 
more easily performed. The reins being intertwined, so as 
to connect the horses by the head, the riders stood up and 
succeeded in balancing each other until they reached tiie 
carpet of the Sultan. They were two well-known Arabkaids 
from the province of Darah, celebrated for its horses, and the 
most noted equestrians of their tribe Their performance was 
greeted with shouts of applause. Again and again they ran 
a course, introducing a variety of novel and difficult feats; 
changing horses at full speed; lifting each other from the 
saddle; stooping to the ground; vaulting from side to side; 
throwing themselves under the bodies of their horses, and 
riding in all manner of positions, which, in a straight wide 
course, with the common saddle, is, as we have said, incom- 
parably more difficult than the most striking triumphs of the 
amphitheatre. 

Of the performers none seemed to enjoy the excitement 
more than the horses themselves, and nothing could be more 
striking than the contrast between the languor with which, 
when the course was run, they returned to the starting point, 
and the fiery impatience evinced in every motion when pre- 
paring for the start. 

For two hours ana more an uninterrupted succession of 
‘^powder burnings,” under the nose of the Sultan, had been 
kept up, and the interest of the performance was beginning 
to abate. Muley Ismael’s face wore an air of abstraction, 
and he began to evince signs of restlessness and impatience. 
More than once it was observed that a sneer of contempt 
curled his lip. The courtiers noticed the look of dissatis- 


244 


‘THE BERBER, 

faction, and earnestly they prayed that some better, or, at 
least, some bolder rider, might appear, who would divert the 
rising wrath of the Sultan, if only by a desperate and mortal 
fall. 

It was just at this moment that there occurred a slight pause 
in the game. The eyes of the Sultan, and those of his attend- 
ants rolling in sycophantic sympathy with his, were turned 
aside in the direction of the lower end of the lists. Suddenly 
a single horseman sprang into the open place in front of a 
party who were preparing to start. No one could tell whence 
or how he came; and no time did the stranger give them for 
question or salutation. The beauty and spirit of the horse — 
a tall jet-black barb — and the graceful ease of the rider, ex- 
cited at the first glance a glow of admiration. 

Ha — ha! Boroon!” exclaimed the horseman, at the same 
moment slipping his feet, which were unencumbered with 
spurs from the broad, sharp-cornered stirrups, and springing 
erect to the saddle. The gallant barb at the woid sprang 
forward as if a thousand spurs were goading him. Firmly 
and gracefully his rider stood; one foot on the saddle, the 
other extended in the air; his left hand grasping thej'e!n,his 
right raised aloft, with his polished musket twirling horizon- 
tally by the mere motion of the fingers, and so rapidly that 
it presented the appearance of a wheel. 

As the head of the barb came on a line with the imperial 
carpet, his course was instantaneously arrested. So sudden 
and so complete was the check, that he did not even pass the 
carpet, but, sliding along a few feet with his haunches to the 
ground, brought his rider right abreast of the Sultan. The 
horseman leaped lightly from the crouching steed, and bending 
down touched the edge of the carpet, put his hand to his lips, 
and instantly sprang back with his feet to the saddle, when he 
stood erect for a moment, and then quietly sank to his seat, 
wheeled his horse, and leisurely walked him back to the end 
of the course. 

Sixty thousand voices rent the air with a simultaneous 
shout of applause. Never had such a course been run in 
Morocco; never before had such a position been assumed 
with such boldness, or maintained with such firmness and 
grace, or finished with such p:'ecision and agility. Muley 
Ismael straightened himself up, glanced at the French Am- 
bassador and his suite, grinned graciously upon his attend- 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


245 


ants, and allowed several expressions of commendation to 
escape him. ‘^Excellent! Wonderful! Well done! Thank 
God there is one man here to-day who knows how to ride!” 

The deliberate pace at which the horseman returned to the 
starting-place, afforded all eyes a good opportunity of scan- 
ning his dress and person. As to his features, they were 
nearly concealed by the ends of his turban, which, with ap- 
parent carelessness, were allowed to hang down on each side 
of his face; but no outer garment concealed the proportions 
of his fine figure. A close-fitting caftan, or vest, of red cloth, 
over a shirt of linen, and a pair of short white linen trous- 
ers, set off and revealed his light but muscular form to the 
best advantage. 

But not less worthy of admiration was the horse than the 
rider, particularly to judges of the animal, of whom there 
were not a few on the ground. The fine points of Boroon were 
noted and eagerly commented upon. His jet black skin, im- 
maculate from color, except where his wide expanded nos- 
trils exposed a delicate circle of pink. His small but long 
head, gracefully placed at the end of a tapering, tendinous, 
and slightly arched neck; his height — nearly sixteen hands; 
his broad chest; his oblique, muscular shoulders; his fine 
sinewy legs; long withy pastern, and the huge veins^ lying 
just beneath the skin, and showing that a large part of his 
circulation was carried on over the surface, and, therefore, 
not liable to be hurried by the compression of contracting 
muscles; together with twenty other marks and points of 
more fanciful significance, were loudly indicated by the ex- 
cited crowd, as with loosened rein, hanging head, and a com- 
posed step, he bore his master back to the starting point. 

Not a look did the latter bestow upon the multitude. His 
whole attention seemed given to his horse. Leaning forward 
he patted his neck, pulled his ears, and caressed him in a 
variety of ways, at the same time addressing to him, in a low 
tone words of the most affectionate endearment. 

‘‘ Oh! Boroon!” he exclaimed. Son of the Beautiful! 
Breath of qhe East wind ! Be true to me to-day — fail me 
not, for great is my strait, and sore would be my trouble, did 
I not depend upon thee! Quietly, Boroon! — save thy cour- 
age for the time of need — it is at hand. Oh! Boroon! fail 
me not, and her hand shall caress thee — her voice shall cheer 
thee! I swear it. Son of the Beautiful!” 


1?HE BERBER, 


246 

BorOon replied to his master’s words with aii eStpahSion of 
the nostrils, and a slow snuffle of delight; hue he raised not 
his head, nor altered his gait, until he wheeled with his head 
pointing up the lists. Then, indeed, his whole manner 
changed. His head was erect, his eyes flashed fire, his breath 
was blown from his nostrils with a furious snort of impa- 
tience, the foam flew from his mouth, and every muscle 
quivered with excitement; but still he stirred not. 

The shouts and exclamations subsided — a deep silence- 
prevailed throughout the multitude. 

^^Ha! ha! Boroon!” exclaimed his master, and with a 
spring light as that of a wild-cat, the fiery animal started. 

With a loud shout, the horseman tossed his musket high in 
the air, caught it as it descended, and instantly stooping from 
his saddle, placed it upon the ground. As he rose, he bent 
down again on the other side, touching the ground with his 
left hand. Again rising, he descended to the right, and so on 
alternately, a dozen times, in rapid succession, each time 
grasping the soil, and scattering it in the faces of the nearest 
soldiers. Arrived at the Sultan’s carpet, he checked his steed 
again within a few feet of the edge — recovered him the next 
instant, and then forcing him into a series of lofty croupades 
and cufvets, marked with the sharp corner of his wide shoveV 
shaped stirrup-iron the initials of the Sultan’s name. 

There was an instant’s pause, and then such a shout went 
up as had never before echoed over the plain of El Sakel. 
Muley Ismael smiled, and again applauded; the royal attend- 
ants were of course vociferous, and swelled with their voices 
the roar of the soldiers and the populace. Even the sleepy 
little Muley Abderrhaman sprang to his feet at the front of the 
carpet and joined his childish cries to the rest. The letters 
were large, and scored roughly on the smooth, shining flanks 
of Boroon, were v^isible to all except the more distant spec- 
tators in the field. 

Once more all sounds were hushed. The horses, even,, 
seemed to partake of the sensation, and ceased their champing 
and pawing. Again the strange horseman commenced a 
career, but not with the same reckless impetuosity. It was 
observed that his steed, although plunging furiously, w^as kept 
well in hand, and all eyes followed, with intense interest, his 
every movement. He passed his gun without stopping to 
pick it up. What could he be going to do.> Silence! — hushl 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


247 


— not a whisper! His horse swerved violently from side to 
side. Expectation was excited to the utmost. He was evi- 
dently preparing for something desperate. Some daring feat; 
and novel, too, thought the crowd; else why move so slow- 
ly? and why such an air of preparation? The course was al- 
most finished. He was nearly abreast of the seat of the Sul- 
tan, when suddenly his horse swerved violently to one side, 
bringing his hoofs on the very edge of the imperial carpet. 
At this moment it was observed that the horseman held a 
paper, which, bowing himself from the saddle, he threw into 
the lap of Muley Ismael. At the same instant, with a rapid 
sweep of his arm, he seized the young Muley Abderrhaman. 
Clutching the child by the clothes, the horseman swung him 
to his saddle-bow; growling, while bending over him in the 
act, almost in the ears of the astonished father, in the deep 
gutteral of the Arabic — 

^^Look to the paper, and when you want him, send to Cas- 
bin Subah!” 

Wheeling his horse short round, the Berber leaped a corner 
of the royal carpet, knocking over one of the umbrella bearers, 
and dashing through the shrinking slaves in the rear of the 
Sultan. In a moment he was at the banks of the shallow 
stream, down which his steed scrambled with cat-like agility. 
A few jumps cleared the narrow bed; and then, breasting 
him by main force through a thicket of oleanders, the other 
bank was gained, and the gallant animal, with loosened 
rein, was skimming the plain in the direction of the hills, 
with a stride as steady, and almost as rapid, as the sweep of 
an eagle. 

For a few minutes the Sultan, his officers and slaves were 
lost in astonishment. Stupefied at the audacity of the act, 
they stood as if doubting the evidence of their senses. In 
sixty thousand minds arose, simultaneously, an idea of djins, 
or of Eblis himself. The Sultan was the first to recover 
himself. He knew that the daring rider was no djin, and he 
bounded to his feet convulsed with rage and fear. 

It is impossible to describe fully the scene of confusion 
that followed. The whole field was in commotion. Troop 
pressed upon troop. The masses swayed backward and forward, 
and orders, execrations, and cries of pain, made a terrible 
chorus with the stamping and snorting of steeds, and the 
clashing of muskets ^n(J sabres. Muley Ismael, crazy with 


THE BERBER, 


248 

passion, drew his scimitar, and for a moment laid about hhn 
in every direction. He vociferated for his horse; tore his 
beard; dashed his turban to the ground, and shouted, like 
one possessed, his orders for instant pursuit. 

The very ardor of the troops prevented these orders from 
being early obeyed, and before the masses of cavalry could 
extricate themselves from the confusion into which they had 
been thrown by the effort of all to be first in the chase, the 
Berber had been able to gain a start of more than a mile. 

At length the Moors and blacks got under way. The little 
stream was something of an obstacle, but at various points it 
was quickly overcome. Over it poured the excited crowd, 
until more than thirty thousand horse thundered over the 
plain, gradually extending themselves in long lines, as the 
relative difference in the speed of their horses began to ex- 
hibit itself. 

Soon those who lagged the most began to rein up, until ere 
two leagues had been passed the body of the pursuers was 
reduced to a few score of the best mounted, whose pure 
blooded, throroughbred steeds, enabled them to keep together 
and also to slowly, but certainly gain upon the Berber, whose 
horse labored under the terrible disadvantage of the addi- 
tional weight of the child. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

We left the kaid, Abdallah, and his party, snugly sheltered 
within the ruins. By blocking up the only entrance, except 
over the crumbling walls, their horses were allowed the privi- 
lege of roaming the area, without any danger of wandering 
wide, and a protection was also afforded against wild animals 
from without. Additional security in this respect was ob- 
tained from a fire of dried bushes, which was kept up during 
the night. No djins disturbed their repose; but the whole 
party was kept pretty much on the alert by the gliding about, 
among the fallen columns within the enclosure, of small ani- 
mals and serpents, the fluttering of bats, and the hooting of 
owls, while from the outside came the cry of the jackal, and 
several times during the course of the night, the thundering 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 249 

roar of the lion, echoing and re-echoing among the loftier 
crags of the mountains. 

With the darkness all apprehensions fled. Morning came, 
and with it a sense of security, shared by the calm, cool, self- 
possessed rais, his gallant brother, and the philosophic kaid, 
to say nothing of the two maidens and the frightened Fa- 
tima, who had more than once disturbed the party with a 
yell of terror at sight of Eblis, or one of his imps, peering 
at her from the bushes. 

The morning passed pleasantly and rapidly. Four of the 
party were in love — deeply in love. What occupation or 
amusement, besides loving, is in such a case required ? In 
free communion with the object of the passion — bathing, and 
reveling, and melting in the light and warmth of his or her 
presence — loving and beloved — love is life, existence, time, 
the world, heaven, all, everything! Sensation is merged in 
the ocean of sentiment. Individuality loses itself amid the 
exhilarating fumes of excited fancy. Memory and fear, 
like night and the dew, flee before the hot burning sun of pas- 
sion. The past and the future are swallowed up in the present 
— all nature is, as it were, interpenetrated aud surrounded by 
a luminous atmosphere of delight. But, alas! for the uncer- 
tainty and shortness of human happiness! The ocean will dry 
up — the fumes will vanish — the sun will set — memory and fear 
will return — and, except in a few rare cases, the lovers will 
pass their perihelion, like comets, with terrible rapidity, 
and go off, absorbing and condensing the luminous atmos- 
phere into which the heat of love had expanded the nucleus 
of self. 

But with these latter changes we have, luckily, nothing to 
do. The sun of our lovers was just on the meridian; the 
ocean of sentiment in full flow, and, as we have said, the 
morning passed rapidly and pleasantly, Abdallah, with the 
characteristic patience and gravity of his countrymen, sat 
with his feet drawn under him, quietly ruminating or dozing, 
while Fatima, selecting the smoothest block of stone, 
stretched herself upon it in the full sunlight, and sought the 
sleep of which she had been robbed during the night by the 
djins. Xaripha and her lover strolled around the enclosure, 
clambered over the ruins, examined several narrow passages 
and corridors, the arches of which were still remaining, and 
at length mounting the western rampart, joined the rais and 


THE BERBER, 


250 

Isabel, who had secured a position that commanded a view 
over the vast plain stretching below them. 

The sight of the distant minarets of Mequinez brought 
the sad fate of Juanita more strongly to mind, and it needed 
the continual assurances of the rais to satisfy Isabel that she 
would receive good news from her sister by the Berber. 

The time for the arrival of the famous chief, on whom all 
hopes of the young Gaditana’s safety now rested, began to 
approach. The sun had declined several hours from the 
meridian. The eyes of the party were directed d(^wn the 
declivity, and across the level country toward the field of 
El Sakel, when suddenly an exclamation from Xaripha called 
attention to a body of horsemen, which, in straining their 
sight to the distant camp, the rais and his brother had over- 
looked. Appearing at first like diminutive specks, they each 
moment grew larger and more distinct, an indication to the 
brothers of their course, and the speed with which it was 
pursued. A short half-hour brought them fully into view, 
when the rais, with the long and trained sight of the sailor, 
could plainly perceive a single horseman bearing something 
in his arms, and urging his steed to the utmost, followed, at 
a distance of a few hundred yards, by a dozen others, who 
were slowly gaining upon him. 

Isabel sprang to her feet, and seized the arm of the rais. 
“’Tis the Berber,” she exclaimed, and he is bringing my 
sister with him! Say, is it not so? Oh, merciful God! they 
will overtake him !” 

No,'’ returned the rais, straining his eyes, ‘Gt is not — 
it cannot be your sister. The burden he bears is too small; 
and besides, there never lived a horse that could carry such 
a weight in such a race. What can it be? ’Tis the Berber 
surely. By Allah, they gain upon him! They are bold 
riders and good horses behind him.” 

‘‘ But they are nearly blown,” exclaimed Edward. See! 
their riders lift them over the ground by main strength. Let 
us to horse and make a diversion. Perhaps our appearance 
will frighten them off.” 

The rais glanced at the unsaddled and picketed horses, 
and shaking his head, turned again to the chase. The ascent 
began to be more steep, and the difference in weight between 
pursuers and pursued, to tell still more fearfully against the 
latter. ^ ^ 


A TALfi 0 ^ MOROCCO. 


^51 

Santa Marla purls shna ! he can’t escape!” exclaimed 
Isabel, sinking to the ground, and covering her face with her 
hands. 

'‘Oh, Prophet of God!” shouted th^ '^ais. " He can’t es- 
cape ! Why don’t he throw away his K ad ? The man is mad ! 
Ha! I see! ’Tis a child. Spur! spur! drive the rowels into 
him! Allah, most merciful, aid him!” 

“ Spur ! spur !’’ exclaimed Edward, mad with excitement. 
“ Drive the rowels into him ! By heaven, they are upon you ! 
Ha ! well done !” he shouted, as the horseman dexterously 
recovered his fallen steed. " Hold out to the thickets and 
you may go clear.” 

“He cannot do it,” whispered Abdallah, breathless with 
excitement, and the exertion of springing up to the parapet. 
“ They gain upon him too rapidly. He can barely cross the 
bridge unless he throws away his load. He is lost ! By 
Allah, he is lost !” 

“No,” shouted Xaripha, starting and throwing aside her 
haick. “ Never ! It shall not be. To the bridge ! quick ! 
To the bridge !” 

As she spoke, she seized the hilt of her fathers’s scimitar 
and drawing it from its sheath, darted with the glittering blade 
in her hand to the gateway of the ruins. With the impulsive 
promptitude of a lover, Edward was the first to comprehend 
and follow her movements. He sprang after her but ere he 
had issued from the archway, Xaripha was half way down to 
the bridge. The remaining more open and level space she 
passed as if with wings. Her tight-fitting caftan and short 
skirt afforded every facility to the motions of her well-turned 
limbs. Her long hair floated in a cloud of ringlets behind 
her, and her slippered feet seemed scarcely to touch the 
ground. But rapid as were her motions, ere she reached the 
bridge, she was overtaken by her lover. “Xaripha!” he 
madly shouted ; “ Hold ! Give me the sword. I will defend 
the passage though they were a thousand. Back to the ruins. 
Give me the sword and leave me.” 

Xaripha had but obeyed the first impulse of her woman’s 
wit, without considering the danger, or her lack of the 
requisite strength. She felt the hot breath of her lover on 
her cheek, and his touch upon her shoulder, and overcome 
by excitement and exertion, she stopped and sank to the 
ground. 


252 


THE BERBER, 


No, no,” she exclaimed, breathlessly. Defend not the 
bridge. Cut the cords behind the Berber! Quick! Away!” 

Edward seized the sword. An impatient gesture from 
Xaripha permitted no pause, even had he been disposed to 
make one. With a bound he reached the bridge. T he Berber 
was but a few yards on the other side. His laboring horse, 
struggling upward slowly, but with that determined courage 
and perseverance, which, as much or more than physical 
power characterizes in all animals the pure-blooded, thorough- 
bred. Xaripha, having recovered her breath, sprang to her 
feet. She waved her hands. She shouted and gesticulated — 
Come on! come on! Ha! Have a care. They are 
close upon you. Spur, spur! A few steps more and you 
are safe. Oh, Prophet of God, help! help!” 

The Berber glances up to the young girl. It seems to him 
the vision of an angel. Both man and steed gather fresh 
energy from her encouraging shouts. Boroon lengthens his 
stride, and gathers himself more quickly. For a moment he 
gains rapidly on his pursuers. A few jumps, and the foot of 
the faltering steed is upon the bridge. The Moors are not 
fifty yards in the rear. The bridge is passed, and on the 
instant the scimitar in the hands of the young Englishman 
swings in the air. As the hoofs of Boroon strike the last 
plank, the keen blade falls on the tightened cords. Again and 
again; and quick as thought the cords are severed, and the 
bridge hangs dangling into the abyss. The Moors are at the 
yawning gulf. With difficulty do they save themselves from 
going over into it. With difficulty are their trained horses 
checked upon the brink of the precipice, from the very edge 
of which their hoofs topple down earth and stones, as they 
crouch to the desperate strain of the cruel curb. 

Casbin threw himself from his horse, tossed the wearied 
child into the arms of Xaripha, and then, darting back, 
seized Edward by the arm, and hurried him a few steps up 
the ascent. 

‘‘Some of those fellows have guns,” he exclaimed; “and 
it is better to put these rocks between us and them. They 
did not dare fire at me for fear of hitting the child, but they 
will make a target of you if you wait till they recover their 
wits and their breath. But here we are perfectly safe, and 
can afford to laugh at their beards!” 

“ But what if they should cross the ravine?” said Edward. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


253 


“ No danger of that,” replied Casbin, leisurely ungirthing 
Boroon’s saddle, and wiping the foam from his sides and 
limbs with a bunch of leaves. They cannot cross save by 
a midnight ride around through a rough country for horse- 
men, They will not think of it. But it was a lucky 
thought, that of cutting away the bridge, and well and 
promptly executed. I owe you many thanks.” 

‘‘ Not mine was the thought,” returned Edward. ‘‘Your 
thanks are due to this maiden.” 

“Ha!” exclaimed the Berber. “Is that so? Indeed, I 
have not done women’s wit justice. I supposed there was 
but one who could have thought of such a thing; but she, I 
doubt not,” continued ihe young man, speaking to himself, 
“ could have executed it as well.” 

Advancing to Xaripha, he seized her hand. “ A thousand 
thanks, fair maiden. You have saved — not my life; that was 
hardly in danger, for I should have reached these thickets ; 
where, on foot, it would have been impossible to overtake 
me; but you have saved what I value as my own life; you 
have saved Boroon. I should have been compelled to aban- 
don him, and the vile Moors would have carried off the son 
of El Hasseneh.” 

“A gallant steed, indeed!” replied Edward, “to carry 
overweight in front of such horses as followed you. But tell 
us of the race. We have watched your course for the last 
half hour, but we saw nothing of the start.” 

The Berber uttered a scornful laugh, and turning, laid his 
hand impressively upon Edward’s arm. “ Your words mean 
well, but if I should translate them into Amazerg, or Arabic, 
they would offend Boroon. Luckily he does not understand 
Spanish. Think you that he would mind the additional weight 
of that child , overwhelming as it would be to a common horse, 
in a fair race with anything of this kind in Morocco? Know, 
oh, brother of my friend! that Boroon started with thirty 
thousand at his heels. His feet had swallowed more than 
half the ground between this and Sakel, and the longest 
winded of his pursuers were blown— dead beaten, when, un- 
luckily, we encountered a body of fresh horse. They took 
up the chase. Their steeds were good, and Boroon is mor- 
tal, and so they gained upon him. And again I thank you, 
maiden, that they did not capture him.” 

The kaid; accompanied by the rais^ assisting Isabel down 


254 


THE BERBER, 


the declivity, now appeared. At sight of her Casbin took 
the child in his arms, and turned toward her. Isabel, pale 
and trembling, was too excited to speak. 

“ I promised, senorita, that I would bring you news of 
your sister. I do so, and good news, too. I have seen her.’’ 

Isabel gasped for breadth. 

Where is she?” she exclaimed, as she recovered her 
voice: Did she come with you ? Has she escaped ? Oh, 

tell me !” 

Calm yourself, senorita. I have seen her; but she saw 
me not, and I spoke not with her. But you may believe me 
when I say that she is well; well in health and spirits; and 
that she is in no danger of ill treatment of any kind.”^ 

But when shall I see her again?” 

‘‘ In three days at farthest ?” 

“ Are you sure? Oh, deceive me not.” 

This child is full security for her safety and freedom. I 
confide him to your care; he is a precious hostage. But 
come, I see you all look anxious and inquisitive; let us into 
the palace of the djins. When I have thoroughly groomed 
Boroon, I will tell you of my adventure.” 

The day drew to a close; night came on; and again was 
the fire kindled, and supper prepared; after which the events 
of the day were thoroughly discussed. Casbin drew a vivid 
sketch of the Lab el Barode. He enumerated the feats of 
equestrian skill — described the array of the Sultan and court; 
the appearance of the troops; and pictured in a humorous 
light, and with a certain degree of boyish glee, the consterna- 
tion and confusion that reigned behind as he launched out 
for the hills. 

Upon one point, however, his manner was unusually close 
and guarded. He was sufficiently free in his assurances of 
Juanita’s health and safety; but he adroitly avoided all ques- 
tions as to the details of his visit. There were feelings con- 
nected with that visit that he did not care to have probed. 

It was quite late when Casbin rose; and commending 
Boroon and the young Muley Abderrhaman to the care of the 
brothers and the maidens, intimated a necessity for his de- 
parture. He promised to be with them again at early dawn, 
when he would give them directions as to their future move- 
ments. The brothers accompanied him to the entrance of 
fhe luins, which they secured behind him^ an(J then 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


255 


their preparations for another watchful but less anxious nigh-' ; 
while the Berber, tightening his girdle, and carrying his sliurt 
straight sword in his hand, in readiness for any adventurous 
animal, pursued his way up the mountain side with a step as 
firm and unhesitating as if it had been in broad day. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

< 

Upon the breast -of Isabel the little Muley Abderrhaman 
forgot the fatigues of his desperate ride; and a night’s sound 
sleep, from which he awoke only to the caresses of the 
maidens, soothed his grief and calmed his fears. Boroon, too, 
seemed none the worse for his exertions. With head erect, 
and expanded nostril, he saluted the rising sun with a suc- 
cession of vigorous neighs. Stamping the ground in pride of 
recovered strength; with bristling main and arched tail, and 
eye flashing, bright, fiery as the gleam of sunbeams from a 
Damascus scimitar, beseemed to wish to challenge the whole 
world of horses to another trial of speed and wind. 

‘‘Ha ! Boroon ! Brave Boroon ! Thy pride has come to 
thee with the morning — thy strength is renewed by the dawn. 
What would’st thou have? Would’st run with the sun? 
Would’st thou race with the light? — for no mortal horse is 
thy match, oh, thou son of El Hassaneh 1” 

While speaking the Berber entered the ruins, and with 
him an attendant, bearing a bag of dates and a skinful of ca- 
mel’s milk. But it was with evident reluctance, notwithstand- 
ing the daylight and the presence of his master, that the man 
set his foot within the castle of the Romi, and, with a sharp 
look-out for djins, proceeded to feed and groom the spirited 
Boroon. It was not until this latter operation had been 
finished to his satisfaction, that the young prince turned to 
speak to the kaid and his party. 

“ Pardon me,” he exclaimed, “ if I seem to pay more 
attention to Boroon than to such honored guests.” 

“ No excuses,” interrupted the kaid. “ We all know the 
proverb — ‘ The condition of the steed is often the life of the 
rider.’ Boroon deserves your care.” 

‘‘ He does,” returned Casbin ; but that should not hinder 


256 


THE BERBER, 


the politeness due from a host. You are now my guests; 
you have entered upon my territories; although this is some- 
what of a debatable ground between yonder Saltan and 
myself. These ruins are mine — mine by right of conquest. 
The castle was built by the Romans to overawe and block up 
the Beni Mozarg. My ancestors were compelled tp endure it 
for a century, when they took it, and left it as you see. Since 
then, neither Vandal nor Saracen has dared to attempt its 
restoration. It has scanty accommodations for ladies,’’ con- 
tinued the Berber, turning to Xariphaand Isabel; ‘‘and sorry 
I am to say, that I am afraid you will have to pass another 
night within it.” 

“ Is there no danger of a visit from any of the troops 
below ?’' demanded the rais. “ True, the bridge is destroyed ; 
but is it not possible for foot soldiers to find their way 
across?” 

“ Have no apprehension. I have taken all precautions 
against surprise. As to a message from the emperor’s camp, 
I expect it. Even now there is a troop of horses approaching, 
but they bear a white flag, and come as friends.’’ 

“Do they bring Juanita with them 1” eagerly demanded 
Isabel. 

“ I hope not,” replied Casbin, “ poor girl I She will have 
had a hard night’s ride if they have brought her all the way 
from the city. No; she may be now in the camp at El Sakel, 
but she can hardly be with this part7 who are advancing. 
Let us to the rampart and watch them. They must now be 
fully within view.” 

The Berber led the way to the point from which his own 
movements had been overlooked the day before. The party 
of Moorish horse were distincdy visible, but nothing like a 
fema’e form could be seen. 

In a short time they were within a few hundred yards of 
the ravine; and the Berber proposed to go out and receive 
them. He directed all to envelope their faces in their haicks 
and the hoods of their djellabeahs, so as not to be recognized, 
and taking the child in his arms, he led the party down the 
path from the ruins. 

The horsemen drew rein at a little distance from the preci- 
pice. The kaid in command dismounted, and with a turban 
floating from a short staff, advanced to the bank. The 
Berber advanced on his side. The conference opened cn 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 257 

the part of the kaid with a profusion of salutations and com- 
pliments. 

“Gqd be praised for all his mercies!” exclaimed the kaid. 

Not the least of which is that he again permits me to rest 
my eyes on the prince of horsemen; the liero of the Lab el 
Barode. May Allah hold such a rider in his right hand ! 
And the horse — oh, fortunate owner of such a horse! Say, 
has he recovered his wind ?” 

“ Boroon, the son of El Ilassaneh, is well,” replied the 
Berber? 

El Hassaneh! Oh, wonderful, incomparable, matchless 
animal! My ears still ring with her fame; but my eyes were 
never blessed with the sight of her. Will iny lord tell me to 
which of the Kolani ‘the Beautiful ’ traced her ])edigree?” 

“ The ancestors of Boroon and his mother El Hassaneh 
had a pure stream of blood a thousand years old before the 
Kolani were heard of,” responded the Berber, courteously, 
but with somewhat of impatience in his tone. But come, 
what new^s from the court? How is the Sultan (whom may 
God preserve!) this morning?” 

“ My lord the Sultan — may God lengthen his life! — is well 
in body, but sore troubled in mind. Never has a Sultan of 
Morocco had his beard so freely handled. Oh! who can paint 
the tempest of imperial wwath? It was terrible ! more violent 
than the tornado ! more withering than the sirocco ! But 
God is alone all-powerful. The shereef, although a descend- 
ant of the Prophet, is but a man. He bows to the will of 
Allah. He submits to destiny. He honored me, his meanest 
slave, the veriest speck of dust in his presence, with an 
order to saddle and mount. He sends you his compliments. 
He desires to know upon what teims you will restore his 
heart’s jewel, the young Muley Abderrhaman ; and he begs 
that you wdll commit no outrage upon the boy before he can 
have time to treat for his ransom.” 

“ Look !” exclaimed Cast)in, leading the child to the brink 
of the pricipice. “ See for yourself that the boy is w'ell; and 
now, go, — say to your master that it would grieve me indeed 
to be compelled to wmrk the child any harm. Say he has but 
to comply with my demands, and the t^ride of his old age 
shall be immediately restored to him.” 

“What is it that the lord of Boroon demands?” 

“ ’Twas in the paper that I flung in the face of the Sultan. 
Did he not read it ? ’ 


THE BERBER, 


25S 

He did ; but my lord the shereef thinks that the chief of 
the Beni Mozarg is inclined to laugh at the dirt that he has 
cast on the imperial beard. There was nothing in that paper 
but a demand for a Christian female. The Sultan despatched 
a messenger with orders to bring her to the camp; but he 
cannot believe that his child was carried off to secure the 
person of one Christian woman.” 

‘‘Go!” interrupted Berber. “Say to your master that 
I ask nothing beyond the terms of that paper. Bring me 
the young Gaditana, and the child shall be restored. As to 
anything further, say to him that I will help myself with the 
strong arm; but that Casbin Subah wrings not a father’s feel- 
ings, though that father is his greatest enemy, for the sake of 
plunder. Bring me the Gaditana. If she is now at the camp 
she can easily reach this spot long before the sun hides his 
face in the West. Bring her then with all speed, and, mark 
you, with all honor and care. By the bones of my great an- 
cestor, Genseric, if a free look lights on her person, or a foul 
word defiles her ear, my vengeance shall waken the wildest 
wail that ever went up from Mequinezl” 

The look and tone accompanying these words, convinced 
the kaid that the speaker was in earnest. With a profusion 
of the usual Arabic compliments the conference was closed, 
and the Moor, mounting his horse, put himself at the head of 
his troop, and spurred down the hill at full speed; not, how- 
ever, without some lingering and suspicious looks at the figure 
of the Berber, and the party of the rais immediately in his 
rear. Had the ravine been passable, the kaid and his troop 
would have willingly broken faith, and notwithstanding ihe 
peaceable professions of the white flag, have attempted to cap- 
ture the person of the renowned mountaineer. Casbin noted 
their passing whispers, and their curious glances at the bridge- 
less gulf, and a slight sneer curled his lip as, muttering some- 
thing to himself, he turned away, and, accompanied by his 
companions, ascended the path to the ruins of the Romi. 

The day rolled leisurely away. The heat of the sun was 
less oppressive; the light less brilliant. There was a slight 
haze in the air, precursor of the rains which had already begun 
upon the high summits of the southern Atlas. Casbin 
pointed out to his companions the heavy masses of flocculent 
clouds, enveloping the lofty snow-covered peaks, and stretching 
in irregular outline down upon the wooded sides, and almost 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


259 


mingling with the thousand columns of smoke that could be 
seen arising in all directions from plateaux and terraces, 
which, as usual, had been cleared by fire of stubble and 
weeds, in expectation of the coming rains; or from the nu- 
merous charcoal pits of the mountaineers. The commotion 
in the clouds, as, riven each instant by the electric fluid, 
they opened and closed, and rose and fell, could be distinctly 
seen, although the bright sunlight, reflected in various tints 
of glowing white from their surfaces, prevented a view of the 
flash. The ear, however, occasionally caught a faint sound 
of the distant thunder; a deep bass note that harmonized 
well with the shriller tone from rustling grass and waving 
trees; from locust and lizard, and bird and bee, and tiny 
insect, and man, with his flocks and his dogs, which came 
up in low sweet music from the plain below, or from the 
slopes of the surrounding hills and the immediate precincts 
of the ruins. 

The slight haze of the atmosphere prevented a clear view 
of the plain of Sakel, and it wai not until the sun was two or 
three hours past the meridian that a party of horsemen could 
be seen advancing at a rapid pace. 

Deep and true emotion is necessarily silent. The blood 
forsook Isabel’s cheek; she spoke not — she could hardly 
breathe. Xaripha was almost as much excited. 

‘‘ Be not alarmed, senorita,” exclaimed Casbin, in an en- 
couraging tone, your sister is coming. She will soon be in 
your arms !” 

‘‘Can you see her ?” gasped Isabel. 

“In a moment, senorita,” replied Casbin, straining his 
eyes — “ one moment more. Ha! yes — I see her — a female 
figure 1 A horseman on either hand — or I should have seen 
her before !’* 

Isabel burst into tears, and the rais was compelled to throw 
his arm around her to keep her from falling. 

The Berber sprang down the pathway from the ruins to 
the ravine, where three or four men were engaged in re- 
stretching and securing the cords of the bridge. It was a 
simple job, after a rope had been made fast to the lower 
plank, to haul the pendant bridge up to V.s horizontal posi- 
tion, and unite the ends of the severed cords. Under the 
Berber’s supervision it was well and quickly done. 

As the troop of Moorish horse reached the ascending 


THE BERBER, 


260 

ground, a m-ile or so from the ruin they slackened their pace, 
allowing themselves to be overtaken by a party of three or 
four mounted men, who had evidently ridden hard — their 
horses, half blown, and covered with foam and blood, giving 
unmistakable indications of having been freely exercked 
under the influence of lash and spur. 

The leader of the party — a tall, ungainly-looking negro — 
was at once recognized as Muley Sidan,son of the Sultan and 
the Sultana Sidana. With a single glance at Juanita he rode 
up to the kaid who commanded the troop, and motioned him 
on in advance of his men. When beyond hearing, he turned 
to the kaid, and gruffly said : 

have had a hard ride after you. Praise be to God, I 
am in time! This must not be. The maiden must not be 
given up to this Berber traitor!” 

’Tis the command of the Sultan, whose life may Allah 
prolong!” replied the kaid. 

“ I care not,” replied the Prince. My mother needs her; 
and when my mother needs anything, woe unto whoever 
stands in the way of her obtaining it.” 

The kaid knew the violent temper of the prince, and the 
power of Leilah Ajakah. He saw on the instant that it would 
require no little prudence and tact to steer clear between 
the requisitions of the Sultan and the commands of Muley 
Ismael. 

The daughter of the Nazarene must not be given up !” 
repeated the prince. 

‘‘ And the young shereef, the son of our lord?” asked the 
kaid; ‘-who will dare apprise the Sulian that his child has 
been left in the hands of the Berber ?” 

The prince made no reply, but with a gloomy look, he 
rode on by the side of the kaid. 

I am of the blood of the shereefs myself,” continued the 
kaid ; but I should not like to be the bearer of such news. 
Pardon my boldness, but I doubt whether the loftiest l^ead 
in the Sultan’s family w^ould sit safely on its shoulders in 
such a case. My head w’-ould go at any rate.” 

Is there no way of getting hold of the young shereef, 
except by surrendering the maiden ?” moodily demanded 
the prince. 

None,” replied the kaid. ^^And yet, perhaps, it might 
be,” he continued, musingly. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


261 

How?'’ demanded Sidan, in a tone of impatience. Tell 
me how we can recover the child and retain the maiden, and 
you shall name your own reward. Oh! I should so like to 
circumvent this Berber — this traitorous hound of the hills. 
Some day I will extirpate his tribe, and defile the graves of 
his ancestors — how, I would laugh at his beard.” 

You may, perhaps, be able to do more than laugh at it,” 
returned the kaid. “ Suppose that it were in your power to 
spit upon it — to pull it out by the roots?” 

The prince looked at the kaid inquiringly. In reply the 
kaid proceeded to explain that it would be, perhaps, po';si- 
ble, after surrendering Juanita and getting possession of the 
child, to make a sudden dash at the Berber, and secure him 
and his prize. 

Had the bridge been up,” said the kaid, I could have 
done it this morning. This afternoon there will be no such 
difficulty in the Avay.” 

‘‘ But think you that this son of a thousand burnt grand- 
fathers will not appear in force ?” 

No, not so,” replied the kaid. ‘^Look for yourself — 
there he is in waiting for us just beyond the ravine. Tliere 
are not more than a dozen persons with him — and two of 
those ai e women. No, he trusts in this thing,” continued 
the kaid, unrolling and exposing a white flag. “ He is a 
fool. This maiden must have bewitched him, or he would 
have insisted on better terms, with the young shcreef in his 
power. He might have emptied the bcit al vial of every coin 
in it.” 

The kaid’s allusion to the imperial treasury, the vast hoards 
of which the avaricious prince expected some day to inherit, 
suggested a reason for recovering the child which had not 
before occurred to Sidan. It would be bad policy indeed to 
leave the means of forcing money from, the old doting father 
in the hands of the Berber, even to gratify the Sultana, and 
secure her ascendancy in the harem. He glanced back with 
a look of curiosity, but Juanita wore her haick well over her 
face, and he could not see her features. She, however, saAV 
him, and her suspicions were excited by his manner of 
addressing the kaid. As she w’atched the play of their 
features, their excited gestures and mysterious glances, she 
became more and more convinced that some foul play was in 
contemplation. 


262 


THE BERBER, 


A turn of the road permitted a sight of the bridge restored 
to i:s horizontal position. A single guard, with along musket, 
stood at one end. Beyond, at some fifty paces distance, was 
the Berber, and grouped behind him two or three rough- 
looking attendants and the party from the ruins. 

The plans of the prince and the kaid were quickly formed. 
The first was to halt with the main body of the troops at the 
bridge, while the kaid rode forward with Juanita, and effected 
the exchange. The instant he should get the child in his 
arms the prince was to advance with the soldiers, and recap- 
ture Juanita, and seize the Berber, or cut him down if he 
offered any resistance. The plan was simple, and apparently 
of easy execution. 

With courteous and politic duplicity, the Moors drew rein 
at a little distance from the bridge, as if disposed to wait for 
some message from the other side. But the next instant they 
were again in motion, advancing to the brink of the ravine. 
The kaid, bearing the white flag, crossed the bridge, fol- 
lowed by Juanita, and the horsemen who rode by her side. 
She had scarcely, however, reached the other side, when 
Prince Sidan, with the remaining portion of the troop, began 
to pour over the bridge, despite the opposition of the single 
guard. 

The Berber heeded not this movement, but, advancing 
w’ith the young shereef, politely exchanged the usual compli- 
ments w’lth the kaid. He then turned and assisted Juanita 
to dismount, As she rested in his arms for a moment, on 
her way to the ground, she whispered : 

Beware, Seuor; there is treachery intended, I fear.” 

Casbin started, but made no reply. Leaving Juanita to 
the embrace of her sister, he turned to the kaid. 

What means this ?” he demanded, gravely, but politely. 
^Hs it necessary for your troops to pass the bridge? Do I 
not appear unarmed and unattended ? 

By the faith of Allah!” exclaimed the kaid, you have 
no cause to fear. My men are somewhat curious to see 
so renowned a person as the chief of the Beni Mozarg. 
Hand me the child, and I will soon send them across the 
ravine.” 

A sarcastic smile played around the mouth of the Berber. 

‘‘Will Muley Sidan, the son of your Sultan, give the same 
pledge ?” 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 



The kaid started, to find that Sidan had been recognized, 
but recovering himself in a moment, he called quietly to the 
prince to advance. 

^‘The chief of the Mozarg fears that we meditate evil,” 
said the kaid. Will the son of the Saltan tell him that the 
eye of Allah searches the breast of a shereef, and that no 
treachery can be found in it ?” 

Muley Sidan assumed a look of extreme candor and cour- 
tesy. Placing his hand on his heart, he bowed low, smiled, 
and exclaimed; 

‘‘As Allah is truth, there is no guile in a shereef.” 

The gravity with which the Prince asserted this monstrous 
lie was very amusing. From the days when the fanatic 
founders of the family (issuing from their home in the des- 
ert) succeeded, by a course of systematic treachery and fraud, 
not less than by force of arms, in subverting the dynasty of 
the Almohades, the Shereefian family had been noted for its 
bad faith to friends and foes. The assertion of the Prince 
was eminently ridiculous; and the Berber replied by a laugh. 

Sidan glared at the young man for a moment with an ex- 
pression of fury. But he restrained himself until the boy 
should be in the arms of the kaid. Practised in the art of 
dissimulation, like most of his countrymen, he smoothed his 
features and again placed his hand upon his heart. 

“ Fear nothing,” he exclaimed. “ Pass the boy to the 
kaid. May my great-great-grandfather burn forever if any 
evil is intended.” 

There was something so sinister in the scowling glance of 
Muley Sidan, something so suspicious and threatening in the 
tone of his voice, that the group behind the Berber started 
and listened in attitudes of intense excitement for the reply. 
Juanita, who had her own reasons — vague ones though they 
were — for suspecting treachery, took a step toward the 
young chief, but paused in breathless expectation of what 
was to happen. 

Casbin smiled with a peculiar meaning; but without a 
word, he raised the boy in his arms and handed him to the 
kaid. The instant the latter had secured the child in his 
arms, he wheeled his horse, struck spurs into him, and in a 
few jumps was in the rear of his troop. 

There appeared to be something exceedingly comical in 
this rapid and suspicious movement to the eyes of the Berber. 


264 


Ttt£ BERBEH. 


He clapped his hands, as if applauding some dexterous feat 
of the Lab el Barode; his face glowed all over with the 
spirit of fun, and a burst of clear, ringing, heart-felt laughter 
struck all within hearing — Christians and Moors — with sur- 
prise. Sd much astonished was Muley Sidan at the sudden 
outbreak of pure boyish glee, that for a moment he forgot 
himself. 

He sat still on his horse, and his eyes wandered from the 
Berber to the kaid, as if in search of the joke. The idea 
that the chief of the Beni Mozarg was half-witted occurred 
to him, but was at once chased from his mind by the con- 
viction that the renowned mountaineer was making him — the 
son of the Sultan— an object of mirth. 

A tremor of rage shook his frame, and gathering up his 
bridle, and spurring his horse, he shouted to the soldiers to 
advance. 

‘'Dismount! Seize him — seize them all! Bind the men, 
while I secure these women!” 

‘‘Hold !” shouted Casbin, in a tone that made the soldiers 
pause, as they were flinging themselves from their saddles, 
and even arrested the movements of the Prince. “Hold! 
Not a step for your lives! Your heads are in the lion’s 
mouth — beware how you provoke his rage!” 

Casbin raised his hand. “Show yourselves, children of the 
Mozarg!” he shouted, in a voice that sent its char echoes 
rolling along the hill-side, “show yourselves to those traitors !” 
and at the word the surrounding thickets seemed to be alive 
with men, all armed with long guns, which they pointed with 
one accord at the astonished Moors. They covered the 
rocks — they filled the road beyond the bridge — they seemed 
to start up from the ground in all directions. 

“ Fools!” exclaimed Casbin, addressing the Moors, “did 
you think that I was so weak, and so ignorant of Moorish 
character as to trust to your honor? Cowardly liars!— 
traitors! what hinders me from punishing your intended 
treachery as it deserves ? But go! I leave you to the judg- 
ment of Allah, whose name you have profaned. Go! the 
eyes of my children ache with the sight of such faithless 
wretches! Go! lest they take the sword of vengeance into 
their own hands, when I shall be powerless to restrain them!” 

Casbin weaved his hand ; the mountaineers fell back from 
the road, allowing the disconcerted horsemen to cro!:s the 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


265 

bridge and descend the slope of the hill. Muley Sidan slunk 
away with the rest, uttering not a word until he was beyond 
the reach of the Berber muskets, when his rage overflowed in 
a torrent of imprecations. * • 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

The sun had risen some fifteen or twenty degrees above 
the eastern summits of the Atlas, when our travelers having 
again passed a pleasant night in the ruins of the Romi, once 
more mounted to the saddle. Their route lay in an easterly 
direction, upward, through groves of oak and evergreen; 
along cultivated valleys, filled with villages of stone huts, and 
across several small plateaus and mountain slopes, covered 
with flocks of sheep and goats. 

Every danger had passed, and a scene of perfect security 
opened the doors of all hearts to the influences of the grand 
and picturesque aspects of nature. There was not much said. 
Their minds were loo full of delicious emotion ; they were too 
happy to talk. The only countenance darkened by a shade of 
care was that of the rais. Upon first mounting, he had made 
an effort at gaiety, but as they proceeded on their way, his 
spirits seemed to sink with every step, until at length his 
gloomy looks began to affect Isabel, who vainly watched his 
face for some clue to his melancholy. 

We are near the valley of lions,” exclaimed Casbin to 
the rais, checking his horse, and leaning back in his saddle. 

The shade on Hassan’s face deepened. Isabel started 
with alarm, and turned to him with a look of inquiry. 

‘‘ Be not disturbed, seiiorita,” replied Hassan, riding closer 
to her side. ** There is no danger to be apprehended. The 
valley of lions is simply the spot that has l)een fixed upon as 
the end of — ” 

Our journey 1’’ demanded Isabel, perceiving the rais hesi- 
tate. 

Not of yours, mi queridita, but of mine. At this point 
we separate. You to go on with your sister to the castle of 
Casbin el Subah ; 1 to return to my galley at Salee.” 

The words of Hassan fell with a stunning effect upon the 


266 


THE BERBER, 


ears of Isabel. She gasped for breath, unable to utter a word 
in reply. Her lover pressed clol^er to her side, ready to afford 
her the support of his arm; and with many expressions of 
endearment exerted himself to reassure her spirits. Some 
little emotion Hassan had expected; and it Was with a view 
to save her from all unnece.'Sary excitement that he had de- 
ferred informing her, until the last moment, of the plans that 
had been agreed upon between himself and the Berber. But 
he was wholly unprepared for the degree of emotion With 
which his announcement had been received; or the paralyzing 
effect of the blow. It happened, however, for the best, inas- 
much as, although the shock was at first very severe, the 
reaction which followed upon further explanation was propor- 
tioned to it. The spirits of the Gaditana rising with a bound 
from the undue depression, mounted to their original elevation 
upon learning that the proposed separation was to be but for 
a few weeks at most. Her tender and impressible nature was 
better able to endure the temporary absence of her lover, from 
having been compelled, for a moment, to contemplate the 
possibility of a separation from him forever. 

Ilia few words the rais explained his plans; pointed out 
the necessity of leaving her for a while, to ensure some means 
for the ultimate escape of the whole party from the country; 
enlarged, in answer to her inquiries, upon the feasibility of 
his scheme, the little danger attending iis execution, and the 
certainty of soon seeing her again. Absorbed in conversa- 
tion on a subject so deeply interesting to them, the lovers 
heeded not their arrival at a beautiful little valley, until their 
further progress was arrested by the shouts of their compa- 
nions, who had dismounted, and were grouped upon the turf 
around a spring of crystal water, and beneath the shade of a 
venerable ilex or holm oak. 

A number of good-looking, bareheaded and barefooted 
damsels, bearing loaves of bread, hot barley cakes, fresh milk, 
honey, and eggs, were in attendance. Old women and chil- 
dren flocked from the neighboring huts; while, at a little dis- 
tance, the men collected in groups, all anxious to get a sight 
of the famous chief. Casbin advanced to them; spoke to 
them, familiarly presented his hand to two or three of the old- 
est, and touched several sick children who were presented to 
him by their parents. 

The morning ride and the fresh mountain air had given the 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


267 


travelers, not even excepting the three maidens, a good appe- 
tite; and full justice was done to the breakfast of the moun- 
taineers. Everything in the scene; the smiling aspect of the 
little valley, imlDedded, as it were a dimple, in the rough and 
scarred cheek of old Atlas; the bright sunlight playing on 
rock and tree and waving grass; the cool breeze; the pictu- 
resque looks, free bearing, and respectful attitudes of the wild 
mountaineers, all combined to make that al fresco meal a gay 
and pleasant one. The spirits of the party reached a high 
degree of elevation, and even the rais, shaking off with a 
determined effort all feelings of sadness, joined, in his grave 
way, in the general hilarity. 

The signal for mounting was given by the Berber. Their 
animals were brought up by their attendants, and each gal- 
lant hastened to assist his lady-love to her saddle. Hassan 
lingered long at the stirrup of Isabel, and would still have 
stayed, had not Casbin, who had mounted his horse, ridden 
up to her side and impatiently laid bis hand on her bridle. 

^•Come, senorita,’’ exclaimed Casbin, “I must carry you 
off. You are detaining this famous rover from his duty.*’ 

The rais interposed no objection, but with an emphatic 
pressure of her hand, he turned and sprang into the saddle. 
With a -wave of his arm and a courteous inclination of his 
body almost to the saddle-bow, he wheeled his horse, and 
resolutely turned back, accompanied by a mounted moun- 
taineer, on the path to the ruins of the Romi. 

‘Wou will not think me uncourteous, seiiorita,’^ exclaimed 
Casbin, ‘‘in thus cutting short the parting speeches of so gal- 
lant a lover? The truth is, time presses, and every moment 
is of importance.” 

“How so?” demanded Juanita. “Did you not say that 
we have reached ground that had never been desecrated by 
the footsteps of a conqueror? No danger can threaten us 
here!” 

“You are right, seiiorita,” replied Casbin. “You need 
entertain no fear, and our time is not of much importance; 
but with Hassan the case is different — an hour lost to him 
may ruin our plans.” 

“Why, then, did he accompany us from the ruins of the 
Romi ?” inquired Juniata. 

“Why, sehorita?” replied the Berber, with a glance at 
Isabel; “because love is stronger than prudence. I urged 


268 


THE BERSER, 


that he should set out at once for Saleer he insisted upon 
going to my castle; so we compromised the matter by agree- 
ing upon the valley of lions for parting.” 

It must be urgent business,” exclaimed Juanita, ‘‘that 
can induce him to turn back even here. Every ascent 
seems to open up fresh views of beauty ; and at every step 
my heart beats with a more vigorous pulse of delight. Oh, 

1 should dislike, indeed, to be compelled to turn back and 
descend.” 

“Not even to resume your seat on the cushions in the 
private patio of Leila Ajakah,” said Casbin, “ with the Abys- 
sinian dancing girls posturing before you I” 

Juanita raised her eyes with an expression of surprise to 
the face of the Berber. In talking over her adventures after 
being carried off by the officers of the Sultana, nothing had 
been said, on her part, of the dancing girls or, on the part of 
Casbin, in relation to his visit to the harem. 

The Berber answered her puzzled look with a smile. 

“Not even,” he continued, ‘ if you could hear the casta- 
nets and tambourines of those black Soudan damsels, or 
taste the sweetmeats presented by that old waddling Smyrn-'’ 
ariot.” 

Juanita started, and an expression of increasing w’onder 
mantled her face. 

“The Moors are r'ght,” she e:jlclaimed. “I think you deal 
in magic, else how could you know so accurately the charac- 
ter and country of the slaves who tired me to death in their 
attempts to amuse me.” 

‘Tt needed no art of magic to inform me,” replied Casbin. 
‘T saw you with my own eyes.” 

“You, seiior,” questioned Juanita, in a tone of astonish- 
ment. 

“At your service, s^norita,” replied the young man, bow- 
ing and laughing gaily. “ Did you think that no eye was 
watching over you? Did you think that I could content my- 
self with my preparations for securing a fitting hostage for 
your safe return ? Did you imagine that I could sleep with- 
out having seen, with my own eyes, how so wild an cl free a 
bird looked in its gilJed captivity? xA.nd well indeed, 
seiiorita, did you bear yourself. I marked your composed 
mien; your calm and courageous smile, and your abstracted 
air. Tell me, Juanita, what occupied your thoughts at that 


A TALE OI« MOROCCO. 


260 


moment, when, with a gesture of command, you waved aside 
the dancing girls, and starting up from your cushions, paced 
the marble court.” 

Juanita glanced at the Berber with a look of peculiar 
meaning, which spoke far more than in words she would have 
been willing to avow. She smiled, blushed, but made no 
reply. 

Casbin understood the look, but with lover-like perversity 
he chose to misinterpret it. 

Oh, I see, senorita,” he exclaimed, ^‘you were thinking 
of the terraces of the Guadelete, and the balconies and alame- 
das of Cadiz. Well, wait but a little, and you shall see them 
once more. If the rais succeeds in his part of the enterprise, 
a few days at most will restore you to the delights of Anda- 
lusia. 

‘‘A few days, senor,” replied Juanita, with something of 
pique in her tone. She was going on with an ironical con- 
gratulation upon the lightness of the tax upon the hospitality 
of his kassir, that in that case they should inflict; but a recol- 
lection of the service that, upon two occasions, he had ren- 
dered her, drove from her mind all disposition to retort the 
affected carelessness of his speech. She feflt a sense of hu- 
mility creeping upon her; a disposition to submit evemto 
caprice and misinterpretation; a desire to be in some degree 
tyrannized over; to suffer anything rather than indifference 
and separation. 

“ A few days!*’ she exclaimed again, but in a different tone. 

“A few days, senorita,; perchance, however, a few weeks. 
Think you that the time will seem too long?” 

‘‘ Oh, no,” replied Juanita. “1 should not mind spending 
months amid such scenes as this.” 

‘‘ Months, Juanita, but not years! For awhile you would 
enjoy the grandeur of our mountain peaks, the sublimity of 
our Winter storms, or the refreshing coolness of our Summer 
breezes — the beauty of our valleys, or the wild freedom of 
our people. For months, perhaps; but in the end you would 
lire of them, and long for more familiar scenes and more con- 
genial manners. Oh, no, senorita, you could not endure our 
Berber life for years!” 

The young man pressed closer to Juanita’s side, and, 
dropping his voice to the low key of deep and tender 
feeling, locked inquiringly into her eyes. The path had 


270 


THE BERBER, 


grown more rugged. Her mule stumbled ; but the ready arm 
of the Berber seized the bridle, and prevented him from 
falling. 

‘‘How is it,” said Juanita, as her beast recovered his foot- 
ing, “that you can endure what you think would be so 
distasteful to me ?” 

“Oh, sehorita,” replied Casbin, “ the case is very different. 
We are the creatures of the nature amid which we have been 
bred. I was born amid these mountains; there snowy sum- 
mits, their awful precipices, their foaming cataracts; their 
dark valleys and forests, enter into my mental and physical 
composition — they are part of me. Besides, I have objects 
worthy of a life-struggle to attain, and that can only be at- 
tained by work, night and day, amid my own countrymen. 
God gave me, sehorita, a father, who had emancipated him- 
self from the prejudice and ignorance of his people. He saw 
that the elements of a great nation abounded among us; but 
that, like the precious ores of our mountains, they were lying, 
as they had lain for centuries upon centuries, neglected and 
useless. He anxiously sought for some means to combine 
these elements — to infuse among them the principle of an 
active moving vitality — to leaven them with the desire for 
grow'th and improvement. But, alas! he died! leaving for 
me, as his richest legacy, the solution of the problem that 
puzzled him. With such an object ever before me — with 
such a purpose ever swaying me — I, sehorita, could dwell 
nowhere else but amid these mountains; but you! oh, you, 
Juanita! have no such relations to these scenes — you could 
never be content with such a life!” 

It was an embarrassing moment for Juanita. Could she 
have spoken as her heart dictated, she would have energeti- 
cally expressed her belief in her power to dwell contentedly, 
not only for years, but forever among the Berbers ; she would 
have said that love alone was an object sufficient to induce 
any sacrifice; she would have asserted the possibility of 
making the young man’s purposes her purposes; of entering 
into his plans“of civilization and conquest; of participating 
in his pleasures and labors, his hopes and his fears. But 
there was nothing in the Berber’s tone or words that would 
fully warrant such a confession of her thoughts and feelings; 
and there was too strong a principle of honesty and direct- 
ness in her character; too deep a depth of pure and simple 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


271 


feeling, to permit a resort to the usual feminine resource, the 
light jesting reply of affected carelessness. She said nothing; 
but with a frank, fearless glance, raised her eyes from the 
ground, and directed them upon Casbin’s face. 

On his part, the Berber chief was equally embarrassed with 
doubt. He knew that he loved. He knew that he was loved 
in return. But still it was a question with him whether he 
ought to propose to Juanita to become his bride; whether it 
would be wise to separate her, should she consent to it, from 
her sister; to tear her away from country and friends; to 
undertake to naturalize an offshoot of European civilization 
amid the barbarism of the Atlas. Would the experiment be 
successful, even if she submitted to it willingly ? 

The profound ambition of the young man, assiduously cul- 
tivated by his father, who had himself fancied that he was 
called upon to re-create the empire of Genseric, an ambition 
that had been confirmed by a visit to the remains of former 
Berber power, together with his position as chief of a tribe 
always at variance with powerful enemies, had rendered him 
prudent and cautious beyond his years. No present gratifi- 
cation of passion or fancy had power to influence his judg- 
ment. He felt the responsibility that rested upon him; the 
responsibility of deciding, as well for Juanita as for himself, 
and with an expression of doubt he returned the maiden's 
glance. Further conversation, however, was cut short by 
the presence of the rest of the party, who, as the road became 
more winding, were compelled to quicken their pace, and to 
close up, in order to keep their leader in sight. 

Their path now lay up a narrow and steep ascent, with 
frowning precipices on cither side, crowned with pines and 
evergreen oaks. The top of this pass opened upon a wide 
and level plateau, to which it furnished the only means of 
access. 

A magnificent prospect broke upon the travelers as their 
staggering but sure-footed animals cleared the jagged bed of 
the rocky ravine, and sprang up to the open plain. On one 
hand they could look back upon every foot of ground which 
they had passed. Below them lay the ruins of the Romi, 
and further on, the plain and city of Mequinez, while in every 
other direction stretched a billowy sea of mountains, wave 
above wave, until the last snow-created summits were mingled 
with the clear blue of ether, or concealed amid the masses of 
fleecy clouds. 


272 


THE BERBER, 


The surface of the plateau was dotted with numerous stone 
houses with thatched roofs, Here*and there the ground was' 
divided by hedge rows, into gardens. The open ground was 
covered by herds of cattle and flocks of sheep. Surmounting 
a gentle elevation was an irregular building of great size and 
of considerable architectural pretension. It was built of 
stone, and inclosed an immense court, the entrance to which 
was through a matchicolated gateway. The walls were flanked 
by towers at the angles, and surrounding the whole was a 
deep moat. Within, distinct pavilions, connected by terraces 
and latticed corridors, surrounded the court,, and divided 
into smaller squares arid more secluded patios the space 
between their outer faces and the casemented ramparts and 
battlements. 

Upon the appearance of the travelers upon the plateau, a 
small culverin was discharged from one of the towers; the 
great gate of the oerJj^ or kassir, was thrown open ; the draw- 
bridge lowered; and issuing from the court appeared a body 
of five hundred hot semen. With trumpets sounding, pennons 
flying, and guns whirling in the air, they came on at full 
speed, uttering loud shouts. They halted, wheeled, divided 
into several bodies, rode up on either side, discharged their 
long guns, and compelled their horses to the most violent 
and extravagant action. 

As the cavalcade advanced, crow^ds of women and child- 
ren showed themselves at every point from which they could 
obtain a view; and Juanita noted with some surprise, but 
more pleasure, that it w’as not curiosity in relation to the new 
comers alone that actuated them. They seemed most anxious 
to see, and greet with shouts of welcome, their beloved 
Amekran. 

In half-an-hour the party arrived at the drawbridge of 
the castle. Casbin here struck spurs into his horse, dashed 
across the bridge, and sprang to the ground beneath the arched 
gatew’ay. Throwing aside his cap and turban, and letting hu 
yellow hair fall in thick masses about his face, he turned to 
the advancing travelers and gravely saluted them. 

The Amekranelarsh of the Beni Mozarg,” he exclaimed, 
'Ogives you welcome to his kassir.” 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. . 


273 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

Under the guidance of the mountaineer who accompanied 
him,Hassan rapidly retraced the path that led to ti^e ruins of 
the Romi, and descending thence, reached by nightfall a douah 
within a few miles of Mequinez. 

His guide called the sheik aside, and spoke a few words in 
his ear. The sheik expressed his willingness to comply with 
any requisition from the chief of the Mozarg, and, turning to 
Hassan,. promised him a fresh horse in the morning, and a 
guide who would conduct him by a safe path around the city, 
and put him into the r_:ain road to Salee. 

Hassan retired to the single tent always placed in the 
centre of a douah, and which serves, in place of a mosque, 
for religious'services, as well as for the shelter of the traveler 
who claims the hospitality of the tribe. Food in profusion 
was brought to him, and the old men of the douah collecting 
i 1 a circle around the door of the tent, disposed themselves 
for a talk. The Moors are fond of gossip, and as they had no 
newspapers in those days (in which particular they are no 
better off now), their only means for satisfying a laudable 
thirst for information in relation to the latest news was to 
question the passing stranger. 

Hassan, however, was rather taciturn, and besides, coming 
from the hills, he had nothing to communicate except that 
the famous Amekran was safe and in good health. On their 
part, however, his entertainers were full of stories of the 
recent Lab el Barode. Hassan listened with interest, occa- 
sionally picking out the truth, by a question, from amid the 
ridiculous exaggerations which had already got abroad. 

Early in the morning he was aroused by the sheik. A 
fresh horse stood waiting for him at the door of the tent. 
His new guide was already mounted, and prepare I to start; 
and Hassan, bidding Lis host adieu ui.h the usual compli- 
ments and wishes for safety and happiness, set forth from 
the douah. 


274 


THE BERBER, 


The barb in Morocco is never trained for traveling — -the 
Moors knowing no medium between a walk and a gallop. 
Hassan, however, was a good horseman ; and in his impatience 
to reach Salee, he contrived to make his beast get over the 
ground at a rapid pace, and yet preserve his wind and strength. 
At sunrise he was nearly abreast of Mequinez. At noon he 
had left the turrets of the capital many miles behind him. A 
few moments he stopped by the banks of a small stream, to 
bait his horse from a bag of barley carried at his saddle bow; 
and again he mounted, and pressed on. But towards night- 
fall he found that his horse could go no further. To en- 
deavor to exchange him for another, at some of the douahs 
in sight, he knew would take more time than he could spare, 
as he was resolved to reach Salee that night. Hassan did 
not pause long to make up his mind. With characteristic 
readiness he sprang to the ground, led his horse to a se- 
cluded spot, and placing the barley before him, took off the 
saddle and bridle, and threw them into the bushes. 

You will not wander from this spot to-night,” he said, 
addressing his steed. In the morning I will send for you; 
and in the meantime we must trust to fortune, and to the 
honesty of our neighbors.’’ 

Hassan turned his face in th6 direction of the setting sun, 
and, with a rapid and vigorous step walked forward. As he 
ascended a little eminence commanding a wide horizon, he 
saw the arches of the old aqueduct we have mentioned as 
still existing in the neighborhood of Salee, drawn clearly and 
distinctly upon the glowing western sky. Two hours later he 
was standing beneath them; and still an hour later he had 
crossed the wide table of rock stretching to the walls of the 
city, and passing round by the moat, reached the sandy 
beach in front of the water-gate. 

There were a number of vessels lying in the stream, and 
others drawn up on the shore. A few Moorish guards were 
moving lazily about among groups of sailors and Bedouins, 
who were bivouacking for the night on the sand. The gates 
were closed, as were those of the opposite city of Rabat, but 
the hum of life still rose from within, and floated on the air 
over the stillness of the river. 

The rover recognized his galley among the vessels drawn 
up on the sand. All was daik and quiet on board of her. 
He climbed up her side, and, crossing her deck, entered 


A TALfi 0^^ MOROCCO. 


275 


the cabin, the door of which stood ajar. The noise of his 
footsteps awakened Selim, who, starting up, recognized the 
first tones of his master’s voice, 

Hassan bade him to strike a light, and then proceeded to 
question him as to the condition of the galley and crew, 

‘‘The men,” replied Selim, “ are all anxiously expecting 
your return. They have spent their last tnouzouma^ and are 
now ready for another cruise.” 

“ And what do people say of my stay in Mequinez?” de- 
manded Hassan. 

“There is some wonder at your remaining so long,” re- 
plied Selim; “but they think that it is the favor of the Sul- 
tan which detains you.” 

“Is nothing said of my brother?” 

“ Nothing” said Selim. “No one seems to have heard 
anything about him.” 

“ And how of my flight from the city with the kaid of the. 
gates?” asked Hassan. “Have you visited the baths and 
coffee-houses, as I ordei e 1 ?” 

“ This evening I have been the rounds of the city, and not 
a word of reproach could I gather against the name of Has- 
san Herach, Nothing is known that my lord would wish to 
have unknown ; and he can sleep without fear.” 

The rais felt his mind relieved from the weight of apprehen- 
sion as he listened to the assurances of the trusty Selim. He 
had feared that orders might have been despatched from 
the court to prevent his leaving the port, or that at least ru- 
mors of his collusion wdth the Berber and Abdallah might have 
reached Salee, and that hesiiould be obliged to encounter the 
suspicions of the citizens and authorities. He was well 
pleased, therefore, to find that he should meet w’ith no diffi- 
culty in manning his galley, and that no objections would be 
made to his putting to sea. Hassan retired to his couch, and 
if, despite the fatigue of his journey, his meditations kept him 
awake during the greater portion of the night, his relations to 
the citizens and authorities of Sake had but little to do with 
it. 

Morning came, and brought with it to the inhabitants of 
that nest of pirates the announcement that the famous rover 
had returned, and was about to get his galley ready for sea. 
The excitement was intense. The whole town flocked to the 
beach to see the man who had faced the Sultan in his mes- 


THE BERBER, 


2']6 

liourah, come off unharmed. His former feats were 

forgott-i'i in the greater glory of his recent achievements at 
the court. The authorities of the town rushed to tender their 
compliments and services to one Who had been honored by a 
present of the imperial haick — one Who had, as it was sup- 
posed, influence enough to procure the punishment of the 
saintly kaid of the slaves, and who, if offended, might see fit 
to bring some of the same influence to bear Upon themselves. 

Hassan was offered the choice of all the slaves in the 
bagnios for the oar — a privilege of which he availed himself 
to pick out a full complement, composed of English, Danes, 
Swedes and Hollanders. His preference for the inhabitants 
of the northern part of Europe was noted at the lime, and 
commented on as affording indications of a long northern 
cruise. It was also noted, but without exciting any suspicion 
as to his motives, that although he could have shipped as 
large a crew as the size of the galley would admit, he con- 
tented himself with less than half the usual number of men, 
and those not the best that offered themselves. 

The energy with which Hassan pushed forward his prepa- 
rations prevailed over the usual dilatory and procrastinating 
habits of the Moors; and in less than a week from the time 
of his return, the galley was thoroughly overhauled and the 
damage she had suffered in the late action repaired. She 
was caulked; furnished with new yards and rigging, and her 
cabin fitted up with a degree of luxury that had never before 
been known. Her provisions and ammunition were got in; 
her slaves brought on board and chained; and at high tide 
she was hauled out from the sand into the stream. 

The impatience of the rover would not allow him to lose a 
single tide, and to the astonishment of the thousands throng- 
ing the beach and covering the battlements and roofs of the 
two cities, the sweeps were put out, and the galley pressed 
for the bar, over which she passed, although the water was 
falling, without touching, under the skilful guidance of her 
commander. As soon as she was clear of the breakers, her 
oars were taken from the water, her lateen yard hoisted, and 
away she danced before the favoring wind, leaving conjecture 
as to the objects of the cruise busy behind her. 

From the port of Salee to the mouth of the Straits of 
Gibraltar is a distance of about one hundred and fifiy miles. 
Light but favorable winds enabled the galley to run this 


A TALK OF MOROCCO. 


^77 

distance, despite the strong current that generally sets adown 
the African coast, in less than two days. Upon rounding 
Cape Spartel, however, the wind changed, and blew strongly 
from the east. To work into the Straits, it was necessary to 
get out the sweeps; and after some hours’ hard labor the 
galley \vas abreast of Tangier. Hassan gladly availed himself 
of the excuse offered by the wind to run in and anchor behind 
the ruins of the magnificent mole, which was blown up by the 
English when, in the time of Charles II., the town was aban- 
doned by them. An opportunity was thus offered him to 
dispatch another message to the Berber, informing him of his 
having succeeded, wdthout hindrance or suspicion, in getting 
his galley to sea. 

As soon as the wind changed, the galley got again under 
way, and stood to the east toward the Mediterranean, thus 
disappointing the predictions of her officers and men as to her 
North Atlantic destination. She crept along the African 
shore, passing Ceuta — then, as now, a Spanish port of 
strength — and entering the Mediterranean, followed the sud- 
den bend of the coast for some twenty or thirty miles, until 
she reached the port of the flourishing town of Tetuan. 

The town itself lay at a distance of three or four miles 
from the shore and only a single building, for the officers of 
the customs, indicated the port. There were no batteries 
that could be brought to bear upon the galley, and no means 
in the power of the authorities by which they could control 
her freedom of movement. Hassan ordered the anchor to be 
dropped and, to the great astonishment of his crew, announced 
his intention of remaining thus at rest for several days. A 
pause of w'hich we will take advantage to say a few words in 
relation to the configurations of the principal geographical 
feature of Morocco — the Atlas. 

But little is known of the great mountain chain that goes 
by this name, particularly the loftier portions of it belonging 
to Morocco, from the direct observation of Christian travelers. 
In Algiers, the French are daily improving in a knowledge 
of it, but nothing can be expected from them beyond the 
boundaries of their own province. By the ancients the Atlas 
was probably better understood than it is at the present day. 
Suetonius Paulinus first crossed it, and after him several 
Roman captains; and military stations W'ere established on 
^ome of the plateaus; but we are little better for the knowledge 


27S 


THE BERBER^ 


thus derived. On two or three occasions the range has been 
crossed by travelers in modern times. As for instance, by 
Caillie, in his route from Timbuctoo, through Tafilet to Fez; 
and by Jackson, in traversing one of the two lofty and dan- 
gerous passes, Belaven and Bebavan, through wdiich run the 
roads from Soos to Morocco. From these scanty sources ; from 
the observations and speculations of "writers who had an oppor- 
tunity of seeing the Atlas only from a distance; and from the 
reports of the natives, who are themselves grossly ignorant of 
the extent and configuration of the whole system, with its 
numerous offsets and lateral ranges, our whole knowledge is 
derived. A few facts are, however, pretty wtII ascertained, 
such as the general direction of the great chain, and its great 
elevation; but in regard to the smaller ranges and spurs, 
except that range running between the Great Atlas and the 
shores of the Mediterranean, known as the Little Atlas, the 
statements are so contradictory that no confidence can be 
placed in them. No two maps, unless the one has been 
copied from the other, coincide. No two geographers agree 
in any clear and consistent description. If the reader, how- 
ever, will bear in mind the general shape of the Northwestern 
corner of Africa, we will try to convey an idea sufficiently 
definite for our purposes. 

. The Atlantic coast of Morocco runs Northerly from the 
Desert to Cape Spartel. The Mediterranean coast of Barbary 
runs nearly East and West — the two meeting at the Straits of 
Gibraltar, and forming nearly a right angle. On the shores of 
the Atlantic, just below Mogadore, some three hundred and 
fifty or sixty miles below the Straits, commences the great 
ridge of the Atlas. For about one hundred and fifty miles it 
runs due East, directly in from the coast, until it reaches the 
city of Morocco, around which it curves at the distance of a 
few leagues, and assumes a Northerly direction. Here occur 
some of the highest peaks. Thirty miles Southeast of the 
city is the Miltsen, which Lieutenant Washington found, upon 
measurement, to be i4,4ao feet in height; further on the 
course of the range are several higher summits, estimated by 
Ali Bey and Graberg de Hemson to be 15,000 feet above the 
level of the sea. 

Having fairly rounded the city of Morocco, the range runs 
nearly due North, and parallel with the Atlantic coast, until it 
reaches to within about one hundred and fifty miles of the 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


279 

Medilerranean, when it bifurcates, one prong curving to the 
Northeast, and reaching that sea at the Cape of Tres Forces, 
near the town of Milella; the other curves to the West, and 
terminates in the Djebel d’Azute, or Apes Hill, on the Straits 
of Gibraltar. The first we will consider the proper continua- 
tion of the great range, in which case its line of direction will 
describe a graceful-shaped curve from Cape Geer on the Atlan- 
tic, to Milella on the Mediterranean. The other will then be 
an offset of*the main chain. It must be observed, however, 
that geographers do not allow the title of Great Atlas to be 
continued to the Northeasterly curve terminating at Milella. 
This honor is given to another range, which runs due East, 
through the provinces of Algiers and Tunis. A parallel range, 
called the Little Atlas, runs between it and the Mediterranean. 
How and where the range of the Great Atlas connects with 
the chain of the high Atlas of Morocco is not very well ascer- 
tained. It has been supposed, that shortly after passing the 
city of Morocco, the line of high summits turns off due East, 
and becomes the, Great Atlas of Algiers and Tunis. But it is 
probable that the continuity of the two crests is broken by 
the interposition of smaller ranges, and by the Desert of An- 
gad — a district of whose geography very little is known. 

On either side of the higher ranges are numerous smaller 
ones, besides many irregular offsets and spurs; so that the 
whole system occupies an estimated extent of five hundred 
thousand square miles — an area equal to France, Germany 
and Italy combined. 

In form the Atlas dilfers very much from the Alps. The 
crests are more round and regular, and there is a striking 
tendency to the formation of plateaus and terraces upon the 
slopes. This conformation renders the Atlas much better 
fitted for the support of a numerous population. 

But it is not our purpose to detain the reader with a com- 
plete description of the Atlas, and we will return to the only 
fact that is of any real importance to our story — the bifurca- 
tion of the high range of Morocco, in the latitude of Salee, 
and the sweeping around Fez and Mequinez, and dowm to the 
Straits of Gibraltar, of one of the offsets. The town of Tetuan, 
situated just within the straits, lies at the foot of these 
hills, and in the immediate neighborhood of Errcef — a dis- 
trict inhabited by a pure Berber population. From this point 
communication could be had with the Beni Mozarg, without 


THE BERBER, 


2S0 

leaving the hills, or without being compelled to cross any dis- 
trict inhabited by Arabs or Moors. This port had been 
selected, therefore, by the Berber and the rais as the safest 
point of embarkation for the sisters. It had been arranged 
that the latter should bring his galley around into the Medi- 
terranean, and lie in wait at this spot, ready to receive them, 
while the former should undertake to escort them, under cover 
of the hills, and through a Berber population to die coast. It 
was in accordance with this plan, which had been settled in a 
long conference during the last night at the ruins of the Romi, 
that Hassan was now at anchor off the mouth of the Klieus, a 
little river forming the port of Tetuan. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Leaving Hassan in his secure and well chosen position at 
the foot of the Reefean mountains, we will return for awhile 
to the kassir; or berdj^ of Casbin Subah. 

And what shall we say ? What shall we leave unsaid ? 
What can we do with a party of contented and happy lovers 
under such circumstances? Describe every movement, thought, 
and feeling? Give every phrase of compliment — every ex- 
pression of passion? Dwell upon looks, tones and senti- 
ments? Luckily, ours is not a story of drawing-room life. 
Such details are not necessary to swell a page or to elaborate 
a plot; and we can, therefore, leave much that passed during 
that happy and uneventful week to the imagination of the 
reader. 

Isabel, a "one, of all the party, had any drawback upon 
her happiness; the absence of the rais she felt had left 
for awhile a blank space in her existence; a blank, however, 
which she managed partly to fill with many a fond regret, 
many a tender emotion, and many a loving liope and prayer. 
Not that she was at all melancholy or dispirited, or inca- 
j)able of sharing the pleasures of her companions. 'J'hough 
feminine and alfectiona*:c in her character^ she was far 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


2S1 

from being weak, and there was nothing in a temperory sepa- 
ration from her lover that would have caused or excused any 
marked depression of spirits. She could not but feel some- 
what of exhilaration arising from a sense of perfect safety 
after so long a subjection to the tyranny of fear. She could 
not but participate in the enjoyment of her sister and Xaripha. 
She could not but feel the influence of the mountain scenery 
in which she found herself. But could Hassan have been at 
her side ! Oh, how much more intense every sentiment and 
emotion ! As it was, time passed her pleasantly, but so lei- 
surely, that she could count the plumes in his pinions. Had 
Hassan been there, time had passed her so swiftly that she 
would not have seen him at all. Nor have seen him any 
more than did Xaripha. who, in truth, could see nothing ex- 
cept Edward Carlyle. Luckily, Edward was equally blind, or 
rather similarly one-sighted, and found all his powers of vision 
exhausted on the object of his affections. 

This state of affairs left Juanita and the Berber very much 
to themselves, affording him an opportunity of studying more 
closely the character of the young girl, and of gradually dissi- 
pating those prudential objections, or rather reasons of State, 
as they would have been called in the parlance of European 
courts, which offered themselves at first to the decisions of his 
fancy! Not that the young chief was hampered by the neces- 
sity of consulting the opinions of any one but himself. His 
amgars and wise men bowed to his will in all things. Unlike 
the Moors, or even their neighbors cf the surrounding tribes, 
the Mozarg held women in the highest esteem. Under the 
fnfluence of their early Christian training, they looked upon 
the marriage relation as sacred, and prided themselves upon 
being the strictest monogamists, d'heir prince could have 
but one wife, and they were not unwilling that he should 
choose her for himself. Their only anxiety was lest he 
should not marry at all, in which case, as Casbin was the 
only survivor of his family, the tribes would be left without a 
legitimate Amekranelarsh. The inevitable consequences of 
which \vould be a division of the tribe into families, under 
independent amgars, and a never-ending succession of strifes 
and bloodshed, wheic now ail w’as union and peace. 

The closer the study of the young-girl’s character was pur- 
sued, the stronger grew Casbin’s conviction that the decisions 
of his fancy and affection were fully supported by the calmest 


282 


THE BERBER, 


judgment that he could bring to bear upon the subject. And 
as this conviction grew his manner changed. The sprightly 
affectations of gallantry were laid aside. The boyish impetu- 
osity and impertinence with which he had tried her char- 
acter, and at times her temper, were repressed. His bear- 
ing became earnest and profoundly respectful. And this 
change of external manner corresponded to a similar change 
within. The soul of the Berber glowed with a new feeling, a 
profounder sentiment, a loftier passion, the instant that the 
objections interposed by reason and prudence had been dissi- 
pated. Before that he had kept his feelings in subjection; he 
loved Juanita from the first, but not with his whole heart — not 
that he sought to resist her influence; to bind himself to the 
charms of her free, unaffected and spirited manner; to avert 
his eyes from the dazzling glare of her beauty. He had re- 
strained his passion rather by the exercise upon himself of his 
own will. He knew that he could not afford to give the reins 
to passion, and let loose his whole nature without being sure 
in every particular of his ground. Frequently the exercise 
of this kind of prudential control over the feelings indicates 
that the feelings are not very strong ; but in Casbin the case 
was different; he understood the wants and the capacities of 
his own heart. He was introspective by habit and nature; 
he looked into himself as one looks into the crater of a vol- 
cano, and he was afraid — afraid of the elements ready for 
eruption within. Instinctively he knew that if he suffered 
the lava of passion to become thoroughly heated, its course 
niust be smooth and true, or the wildest and widest desola- 
tion would follow in its track. 

The weather continued fair, although around the high 
peaks of the Atlas the clouds began to gather more thickly, 
and the upper strata of the air were frequently streaked with 
feathery films of vapor. The bracing air invited to exercise, 
and each day excursions were made to points of interest. 
Now to some secluded valley, some picturesque waterfall, 
some lofty peak, or some haunted cavern; and now to some 
village of the Mozarg, or to some remains of former Berber 
power. 

The courts and halls of the hcrdj presented scenes of con- 
tinued festivity and bustle. In addition to the usual servants 
and guards of the castle, there were assembled a large number 
of soldiers— some mounted and some on foot — huntsmen with 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


'283 


packs of tall, strong boar-hounds; musicians and story-tellers; 
jugglers and serpent charmers; traveling artisnns with their 
rude instruments and tools, and Jew pedlers with fabrics of 
Moorish and European manufacture ; and, mingling with these, 
were crowds of good-looking dames and damsels in their pic- 
turesque, although somewhat scanty, costume. Duputations, 
composed of Amgars from the Beni Gurin, the Guernid, the 
Razin, the Timor, the Yeder, were in attendance, together with 
representations of the slender-framed Shelloch of the Southern 
Atlas, and the dark scowling Kabyh of Algiers and Tunis. 

Isabel did not ride very boldly, and Xaripha could trust 
herself only to the slow paces of a steady mule, but Juanita, 
mounted on Boroon, scoured the country in all directions, 
very much to the admiration of the mountaineers, among 
whom a diversity of opinion obtained, as to whether she was 
a European angel, a Moorish djin, or one of their own moun- 
tain spirits. 

Under the greenwood tree has ever been a favorite spot 
for the conferences of lovers; and, as may be supposed, 
Casbin improved his frequent opportunities. He said nothing 
of his passion, but he exerted himself to enlighten Juanita on 
all those points that could influence her final decision. He 
unfolded himself, his plans, and his hopes. He told her of 
the peculiar circumstances of parentage and education that 
had made him what he was. He represented distinctly the 
wide interval that separated himself from the most cultivated 
of his tribe, and the still wider interval that separated his 
tribe from the more barbarous tribes surrounding them. He 
let her see clearly that if she decided to connect her 
fate with his, that to him alone could she look for sympathy 
and companionship. Casbin intended to be just and gen- 
erous, without thinking for a moment that’, with such a 
character as Juanita, he was taking the most effective way 
of enlisting and exciting to the utmost every feeling of her 
heart. 

Juanita was returning to the kassir at the close of a day 
spent in hunting the wild boar. Casbin ^Yas by her side. In 
the course of the day the beaters had aroused a ‘‘ father of 
tusks;” and in the pursuit, Isabel and Xaripha had been left 
far behind. The monster, after fighting his way for miles, 
killing a number of dogs, and desperately wounding several 
horses and men, at length encountered the spear of the young 


284 


THE BERBER,, 


chief, and received the dexterous and vigorous thrust in his 
heart. 

The sun was near the horizon, the deep shadows of the 
valleys contrasted beautifully with the golden glow of the 
sunlit summits; the air was clear, and the sounds of horns 
blown in triumph by the huntsmen, the barking and yelping 
of dogs, and the shouts of the mountaineers, floated in joyous 
chorus upon it. The heart of the young girl swelled with a 
sense of intense enjoyment. In many cases, the mere feeling 
of life — healthy, vigorous life — aflbrds the most exquisite plea- 
sure. If to this is added the delights of natural beauty and 
the exhilaration of satisfied love, the highest degree of happi- 
ness that this world can know is attained. 

Ilut as a swift, smooth current needs some obstacle of rock 
or bank to indicate its force and rapidity, so does the current 
of happiness require occasionally some slight interruption to 
show how deep and swift the flow. Juanita might not have 
known how happy she was, had it not been for an announce- 
ment that aReefean had arrived from Tangier, and wished to 
speak with the Berber chief. 

. ^‘Bid him approach,” replied Casbin. This must be,” he 
continued, turning to Juanita, “a messenger from the rais. 
Let us dismount, senorita, and receive it. Here, seat yourself 
upon this bank of earth, where through yon glade you get a 
view of the golden-crowned head of the king of the Atlas.” 

In a few minutes a wild, dark-looking Berber, from the 
neighborhood of Tetuan, advanced, and amid a profusion of 
compliments and expressions of respect, drew from his girdle 
a letter. 

Satisfying himself that the man was a bearer of no verbal 
message, Casbin committed him to the charge of an officer, 
with orders to provide for his entertainment; and then, when 
all had departed, deliberately proceeded to open the note. Its 
contents consisted of only a few words in Spanish, apprising 
the Berber that the writer had succeeded in getting his vessel 
to sea, and that in a day or two he should be at anchor off 
Tetuan, with every preparation made for the consummation of 
their scheme. 

The Berber, without a word, handed the note to his com- 
panion. 

^‘When shall we set out to meet him?” demanded Juanita. 

‘‘ To-morrow morning.” 

. ^‘And the roads that we shall pursue are safe?” 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


285 

Perfectly SO, senorita. My presence will secure you from 
all danger. But, Juanita, you do not seem to be as elated at 
the receipt of this good news as one might expect.” 

The young girl made no reply. Her eyes were fixed upon the 
ground, and a tear trembled between the long black lashes. 
She stirred not as the Berber, moving closer to her side, 
passed his arm around her waist, and drew her to him. 

‘^Juanita/’ he whispered, ‘‘ dearest Juanita, will you stay 
with me ? Will you leave your sister ? Will you make this 
rude country your home? Will you be my wife?” 

Your wife!” exclaimed Juanita, starting, and glancing up 
with a look of passionate fondness. But again her eyes fell, 
and a shade of anxiety crossed her face. 

‘‘Yes, my wife !” replied Casbin. “Nay, Juanita, I know 
your thought. You think that on this side of the Straits the 
marriage relation is a loose and an indefinite one. But you 
forget that we are not the followers of El Islam. We arc 
Christians; and a plurality of wives is as strictly forbidden 
by the customs of the Beni Mozarg as in your own' Spain. 
But were it not so, hear me swear that I should ever remain 
faithful to you, and to you alone. 'Tis not from mere fancy 
or passion that I ask you. Deeply, devotedly as I now love 
you, I have other reasons for making you my wife. I ‘have 
told you, Juanita, how my boyish ambition was first fired by 
the story of Iskandar, who had hardly attained manhood when 
he had conquered a world. But did I tell you how I resolved 
to make him a warning, as well as an example? How that, 
inasmuch as mine is a harder task, having to create many of 
the elements of empire, I resolved to make my passions and 
affections the veriest slaves of my will ? In this I have suc- 
ceeded ; and I can boldly say I never should have loved you 
as I do, or that loving you, I never should have dared to press 
you to this point, were it not that I am urged to it by a con- 
viction of duty to my cause and my people. Juanita, I have 
need of you. The civilization of my tribe — perhaps of the 
Atlas — perhaps of the whole of Barbary — has need of you. 
Juanita, you must submit to that destiny which links your fate 
to mine.” 

The young girl made no reply. There was one question 
she longed to ask, but how to put it she knew not. 

“ Do you hesitate ?” exclaimed Casbin. “ ’Tis useless — 
you love me — you know, Juanita, that you love me — you — ” • 


286 


THE BERBER, 


it is not that,’’ said Juanita. love you, lam 
afraid, too well; but, sehor, in my country, a sacrament of 
the Church alone consecrates a union like the one you pro- 
pose.” 

‘^Ha! is that the difficulty?” replied the Berber, gaily. 
‘‘Luckily, ’tis one easily removed; we will have ring, book 
and priest. But I pardon your suspicions, Juanita, and I 
honor your scruples, they are natural; and if you were deal- 
ing with one of your haughty, proud, pure-blooded hidalgos^ 
they would be most probably just. Here, however, in the 
mountains, if we are lacking in some of the refinements of 
European civilization, we are also free from sorne of the vices. 
You will believe me, Juanita, when I say, that I should scorn 
myself if I could by word or deed deceive you. Had I not 
proved you pure of soul — had I found reason to think you as 
light-o’-love as many of your countrywomen, I might have 
sought you on other terms, but never by treachery or false- 
hood. Banish your doubts, then, Juanita, we will be married 
all in due form by one of the Fathers of the Redemption at 
Tetuan. They will be satisfied with my Christianity. In 
Spain I might have some difficult questions to answer; but 
here they will never stop to inquire whether I am a true son 
of the Church or not.” 

“And Isabel ! poor Isabel !” murmured Juanita. “What 
will become of her ?” 

“Why poor Isabel?” replied Casbin. “She will marry 
Hassan, and be none the less content to go with him.to Eng- 
land, than you are to remain here with me. But see, the sun 
is kissing those blushing clouds good night; we must mount 
and gallop to reach home before twilight fades; and you have 
become, dearest Juanita, too precious a charge to be trusted 
even to Boroon, in the darkness.” 

The short twilight lasted until the lovers reached the kassir, 
on the drawbridge of which Isabel and Xaripha, with Ab- 
dallah and Edward, stood waiting. Supper was served in the 
great hall of the principal pavilion, a long and lofty room 
open to the roof, which was composed of heavy rafters, carved 
and painted in brilliant colors, and on the outside covered 
with tiles of sun-baked clay. At the upper end of the room 
the floor was raised a foot or two above the level of the rest 
of the apartment, and over this raised portion was suspended 
a canopy of red silk. Beneath this canopy Casbin sat with 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


287 


his guests, while the rest of the hall below was occupied by 
his officers and courtiers. Those highest in rank sat, some 
upon carpets, and some upon skins, nearest to the upper end 
of the room; while those of inferior degree crowded still 
farther down upon the bare stone floor. Slaves, bearing 
large loaves of bread and huge dishes of baked meats, entered 
and deposited their burthens before the hungry guests, who 
with little ceremony fell to, very much in the Moorish style, 
with the exception, that in addition to the fingers, a wooden' 
spoon appeared to be more generally in use. 

Supper finished, Casbin communicated the message of the 
rais, when, after a short consultation, it was resolved to set 
out without delay for the coast. Horses and mules, guards 
and attendants, were ordered to be ready at break of day, 
and the maidens retired to their couches to prepare for an 
early start. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Five or six days followed, during which the travelers pur- 
sued their devious way through the mountains. Carefully 
avoiding those districts inhabited by tribes with whom his 
influence was doubtful, Casbin led his companions through 
some of the most romantic and beautiful scenery of the Atlas. 
The people, as they passed, although in general bigoted fol- 
lowers of Islam, treated them respectfully, and received them 
into their villages and douahs with every mark of considera- 
tion and kindness. Their progress was slow, from the neces- 
sity of frequent conferences with the Amgars, or wise men of 
the tribes, who would still believe, de pite Casbin’s assurances 
to the contrary, that his journey had some grand political 
object — the extirpation of the Arabs and Turks from Barbary, 
at least; if not the reconquest of Spain and the establishment 
of Berber dominion in all Europe. 

Emerging from a gorge in the hills, the travelers came out 
on to a little plateau, from which they could look down upon 
the Mediterranean, lying almost at their feet. Away to the 
West stretched the undulating line of coast toward the bold 
promontory of Tres Forces. To the left, and at the distance 


THE CERBER, 


of only three or four miles, lay the town of Tetuan, and, 
directly in front, its open roadstead, where quietly at anchor 
floated the galley of the rais. 

The level ground of the plateau was covered with ruins. 
Fragments of columns, arches and walls, were scattered 
around, partly buried in the earth, and partly concealed by 
bushes and vines. A small roofless building, but with walls 
in good preservation, alone remained. This building bore 
evidences in its shape of having been a Christian church, and 
such, Casbin asserted, it was well known to be both from 
history and tradition. A few wretched Berbers had erected 
their stone huts against the walls, but a certain traditionary 
respect for the sanctity of the spot had kept them from in- 
vading the interior. 

In front of this church or chapd the Berber <^rdered the 
ground to be cleared, and the tents pitched. He also directed 
three separate piles of green branches to be prepared and 
fired ; and soon as many tall columns of smoke arose from the 
edge of the plateau. Selecting the most active and intelligent 
looking man from the squalid population living amid the 
ruins, he di-patched him t :> the beach, with directions that he 
should watch for a boat from the galley, and offer his services 
as a guide up the mountain to whatsoever it should bring 
ashore. 

While Casbin was thus employ<=^d, Juanita and Xaripha, 
accompanied by Edward, amused uiemselves in an examina- 
tion of the ruins. Isabel found more pleasant occupation in 
gazing down upon the galley of her lover. Seated upon a 
fallen column, she had a long conversation with Abdallah, 
who could ill conceal his anxiety in regard to the next step of 
their journey. He knew the scheme of the rais; but rnuch he 
feared that something would occur to prevent its execution. 
He hardly dared trust the hope of escape, now that the prospect 
of it was so near at hand. 

And Hassan! How was he employed, while thus the subject 
of conversation — almost of observation — to the Gaditap*^ and 
the Moor? He-was listlessly pacing the deck of his galley, 
occasionally stoppiMg in his walk, raising his eyes to the slopes of 
the hills, and letting them rest with a long and anxious glance 
upon the white wails of the ruined chapel. 

For three or four days he had remained at anchor waiting 
and watching in vain for the signal that had been agreed upon 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


289 


between himself and the Berber. The wind was fair, the 
weather pleasant, and this unusual delay caused some talk 
among the officers and crew, but Hassan condescended to no 
explanation or excuse; and as they had liberty ashore freely 
allowed them, they were content to await his movements. 

As Hassan raised his eyes to the ruins, for the hundredth 
time during his morning’s walk, his steps were arrested at the 
sight of a large column of smoke, rising upward from the 
•plateau against the dark background of the higher hill. He 
rubbed his eyes, and looked again— it had grown larger and 
more steady. At a little distance another little column of blue 
began to arise. Hassan’s heart leaped tumultuously in his breast. 
Another one! — and the signal would be complete! 

‘^Man the boat!” he shouted, with an energy that startled 
the sleeping galley slaves from their benches. Man the boat 
instantly.’’ And Hassan seized the painter by which the boat 
was moored, and pulling it in, sprang into the stern-sheets. 
Many of the crew had gone ashore, leaving a few men a; 
guards for the galley slaves, but Hassan’s impatient commands 
admitted of no delay. 'J'he boat was manned, and pushing 
off from the gabey, rowed rapidly to land. Hassan sprang 
out as the bow touched the shore, and stopping merely to 
order its return to the galley, he set out over the beach in a 
straight line for the ruins. 

His impatience had not permitted him to take a good 
observation of the bearing of the ruins from his point of de- 
[)arture on the shore, and he soon found that frum the nature 
of the ground, broken as it was, and covered with bushes, he 
could not make a direct course, nor could he keep the signals 
in view. Luckily, however, before he had wandered wide, 
he met the mountaineer who had been despatched by Casbin 
to guide him. The fellow had seen him land, and hastening 
his steps, encountered him just as Hassan found himself com- 
pletely at fault. Under his guidance, he soon passed the 
three or four miles of ascending ground, and reached the 
plateau, ^ 

The appearance of the rais was hailed with a shout of 
delight; in a few minutes all the members of the party were 
gathered round him in joyful salutation. The friendly greet- 
ings finished, the conversation subsided into a continued flow, 
whi 'h, however, was at length interrupted by the Berber, who, 
taking Hassan by the arm, intimated his wish to speak to him 
part. 


290 


THE BERBER, 


Your galley is ready for the reception of these people ?” 
inquired Casbin, as the rais and himself took a seat upon a 
prostrate marble column. 

‘^The Sea-Bird waits but a word to spread her wings and 
fly,'^ replied Hassan, and that word I shall give the instant 
they step on deck.” 

‘ ‘ And your officers and men, you are sure of your ability to 
deal with them ?” 

I have arranged it all so that there will be no difficulty or 
trouble. My men are few, and' the greater part 'of them are 
ashore. I have apprised the principal galley-slaves of my 
intention of liberating them; sending the few Moors remain- 
ing on board ashore, and then directing our course to some 
Christian port. They have pledged themselves to secrecy, 
moderation and submission.” 

“You will hardly need, then, any assistance from mein 
disposing of your crew ?” 

“No, I require no aid. The affair is perfectly simple and 
easily managed. It has happened more than once that the 
slaves of a corsair have freed themselves, and mastered the 
crew, with no one to help them; it would be strange indeed 
if they could not in this case, when they have the co-operation 
of the rais himself. 1 thank you, nevertheless, for your kind- 
ness in offering assistance — would that you were going with 
us.” 

“It may not be,” replied Casbin.” “lam a son of the 
mountains; true, I have dwelt with the Arabs; as when we 
were playmates in tbe famous school of Tadulah. I. have tra- 
versed the lowlands, I have visited Christian countries; but I 
am a true son of the mountains. With you the case is dif- 
ferent; you have never been wholly a Moor; you will return 
to Christian lands; the habits and prejudices of your early 
boyhood will spring to life again in your mind, you will quickly 
adapt yourself to your new modes of life. No, Hassan, we 
must part; our paths lie in different directions; but I have not 
drawn you aside to mourn over the necessity which separates 
us. We can very well live apart — I wish to speak to you of 
a separation which is really a cause of grief. ” • 

“ The separation of whom?” demanded Hassan, grasping 
the Berber’s arm. ^ 

“Of these sisters,” calmly replied Casbin. “ One of them 
will go with you, the other has consented to remain with me 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


291 

— she will become my wife. I am going now to visit the 
Fathers of the convent at Tetuan, and shall bring one of them 
back with me. To-night the ceremony will be performed 
which is necessary among Christians, to the validity of mar- 
riage; and Juanita will receive tlie sanction of the Church to 
her determination to remain with me.*’ 

‘‘Will it be possible, think you, to persuade a priest to 
venture out of the town at night ?’’ demanded Hassan. 

“Trust to me for that,^’ replied Casbin. “I shall not 
return without one. Hut I can oifer stronger inducements 
for one to come if I can represent that^others beside myself 
need the services of the Church.’’ 

Hassan started, and looked at the speaker inquiringly, but 
said nothing. 

“You love the elder maiden,” continued Casbin, placing 
his hand upon Hassan’s arm; “you purpose marrying her. 
Why not do so to-night? If Juanita remains with me, Isabel 
must go with you alone. Make her your wife, and every 
objection vanishes. The opportunity is too good to be lost.” 

Hassan listened with a thrill of pleasure to the-proposition. 
The double marriage would obviate all necessity of stopping 
at Cadiz, as — supposing that he was to take charge of both of 
the Gaditanas, he had proffered to do — and enable him to 
shape his course for England without delay. 

‘ ‘ But what shall be done if Isabel will not consent ?” he 
demanded. 

“ Press her hard upon the subject; let her understand 
the reasons for consenting. She is of a yielding nature. She 
will not be able to resist your arguments and entreaties com- 
bined.” 

“But if she still refuses?” queried Hassan, in a doubting 
tone. 

“Then,” replied Casbin, firmly, “by right of the relation- 
ship that will be established this night between us, I shall urge 
her remaining with her sister and my wife.” 

Hassan started to his feet. A look of alarm and anxiety 
crossed his face. His voice expressed the agitation of his 
feelings as he exclaimed : 

Go, bring the priest! She will consent — she must con- 
sent 1 Go, and I will answer for it that we are ready for 
the ceremony upon your return.” 

Hassan hurried off to the side of Isabel. Casbin looked 


292 


THE BERBER, 


after him for a moment, with a smile upon his lips, and then 
proceeded to make some necessary alterations in his appear- 
ance preparatory to his descent to the town. His yellow locks 
were gathered up and secured beneath his cap. His turban 
was arranged so as to allow the loose ends to fall over his 
face. A small portion of coloring powder was rubbed upon 
his light beard and mustache. Thus disguised, he knew that 
his presence in Tetuan, a town half Berber and half Moresco, 
would excite no observation. At the head of three or four 
trusty fellows, who had orders to wait for him outside the 
walls, he led the way with a rapid step, and with an air of 
confidence that indicated a familiar acquaintance with the 
ground. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

It was midnight. A dozen blazing torches illuminated the 
desolate area of that ancient church, throwing their flickering 
light into the recesses of choir and transept, and upon the 
stained and crumbling walls, and o’er the wondering faces of 
a crowd of wild-looking Berber's, crowding the entrance to the 
roofless nave, and lighting up the ruins of the stone altar, 
before which were grouped the personages of our tale. 

A shaven priest, dressed in a coarse gown of gray serge, 
girded by a hempen cord, stood bareheaded and barefooted 
with book in hand, before the kneeling group. His naturally 
coarse features were dignified by an expression of stern and 
lofty faith — that faith which has enabled the Church of Rome 
to send forth in all ages its legions of brave and enthusiastic 
ministers of religion to the farthest ends of the earth — a faith 
which alone supported the few devoted men composing the 
order of the Redemption, in their mission of mercy among 
the Christian-hating fanatics of Barbary. 

The ceremony was finished ; and, leaning on their husband’s 
arm, the sisters left the chapel. It had been arranged that 
Hassan should conduct the party that night to the beach, 
where they would await the result of his attempt to dispossess 
his Moorish crew of their quarters in the galley. No diffi- 
culty was apprehended; but still, to aid if necessary, and for 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


293 


greater security of his bride upon their return, Casbin ordered 
his Berbers to accompany him. The night was dark, the path 
tortuous, and before the beach was gained the first faint signs 
of morning began to show themselves. A short delay only 
was necessary before it was light enough for Hassan’s signals 
to be observed from the galley. 

A boat was promptly manned and pushed off. As soon as 
it reached tlie shore Hassan sprang into it, and ordered the 
men to pull back quickly to the galley. They would willing- 
ly have stopped and had some conversation with the rais, 
respecting his night’s adventures and his plans for the future, 
but Hassan did not think it necessary to humor them, and 
there was something in his looks and manner that repelled 
and repressed all familiarity. 

As the boat touched the side of the galley, he sprang to 
the deck — paused for a moment to glance around upon the 
few Moors, most of whom were busily employed oil the fore- 
castle in saluting the rising sun with their pious prostrations 
and mutterings — and then entered the cabin. In a few 
moments he re-appeared, bearing in his hands several keys. 
With one he unlocked the rude padlock fastening an arm- 
chest that was lashed to the foot of the main-mast, and threw 
open the lid. The only weapons it contained were a 
number of serviceable boarding sabres, which, from their 
shape, had evidently been intended for Christian hands. 
Without pausing, he advancee to a burly, red-faced galley- 
slave, and unfastened the chain which confined him to his 
bench. 

‘^The time has arrived,” said Hassan, in a low voice, and 
speaking in English. ‘‘Let me see how you will keep your 
pledge — I depend upon you. Take one of these swords 
quickly and quietly, and fall back to the cabin.” 

Without hesitating for a moment, Hassan liberated another 
and another, giving them all the same orders. The instant 
they were free they sprang up, seized each a sword, and 
moved aft to the cabin. The attention of the Moors was by 
this time aroused, but they were held motionless and silent by 
surprise and fear, until Hassan had freed as many as he 
thought requisite for his purpose. 

There was a pause ; fore and aft the galley there prevailed 
the most perfect silence. All hands were waiting the next 
movements of the rover. The Moors crowded together on the 


294 


THE BERBER, 


forecastle. Hassan advanced to a position midway between 
them and the band of Christians, and in a loud voice ad- 
dressed them: 

Down with your arms, my men ! Obey my ordeiG with- 
out resistance, and you will not be harmed. This galley is 
no longer a fitting place fi r you. Depart, then, in peace, 
and with God’s blessing. There are, however, a number of 
you who were or ce Christians ; if any renegade chooses to go 
with me, I can promise to take him to some European port. 
Pull in the boat, men, and jump into her. Be quick about 
it !” exclaimed Hassan, noticing a movement among the 
galley-slaves. I want no bloodshed !” 

To most of the renegades the offer of the rais came like a 
vision of heaven — of that heaven they had renounced and 
spurned— and they joyfully expressed their determination of 
availing themselves of the chance of escaping from the thral- 
dom of El Islam. The native Moors, in eager haste, drew up 
one of the boats and crowded into it. 

When fairly off, and pulling in the direction of the port, 
the remainder of the galley slaves were liberated. Hassan 
addressed them in a few words, exhorting them to order and 
quiets, as they hoped for safety. The English sailor he had 
first^iberated he left in charge of the galley, while he again 
visited the shore. A number of volunteers rushed to man the 
boat, and Hassan pushing off, turned the bow in a direction 
at right angles to that pursued by the Moorish crew of the 
galley. The willing arms of the liberated galley slaves soon 
sent the boat to the beach, and Hassan leaped to the shore at 
a few yards from the spot where stood the anxious group 
awaiting him. 

It was a terrible moment for the sisters — that moment of 
parting; parting, perhaps, never to see each other again — cer- 
tainly not for a long interval of time. A terrible moment! 
Luckily for us, it occurs just at the conclusion of our tale. 
Anywhere else, and we should have felt compelled to describe 
the scene in all its details: the placid sea, smiling in the light 
of the morning sun; the rocky beach; the brown hills; the 
Berber guards and attendants, and the crowd of wild-looking 
Reefeans. We should have felt compelled to dwell upon the 
affection of the sisters for each other; to picture the over- 
whelming anguish of one, and the deep but depressed emotion 
of the other. Here, however, at the last page of our story, we 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 2(^5 

cannot do better than to leave the whole scene to the imagina- 
tion of the reader. 

But a short time could be permitted for leave-taking. It 
was necessary to reach the galley before the Moorish sailors, 
who had been sent ashore, should alarm the town. Hassan 
lifted his weeping bride into the boat, where were already 
seated his brother, with Abdallah and l^is daughter. He gave 
the word to the crew; the oars dipped into the water, and the 
boat shot out from the land. 

Juanita pressed as far out upon the rocks as she could go. 
A jutting ledge screened her from observation from the shore. 
Casbin was by her side. In silence they watched the boat. 
They saw it gain the side of the galley — they saw its passen- 
gers transfer themselves to the deck. In a few minutes the 
yards were swayed aloft, the anchor weighed, the sails trimmed 
to the favoring breeze. They watched in silence the swift 
corsair as she glided away, until she rounded a projecting 
point, and disappeared from their view. 

At the last glimpse of her white sail, Juanita buried her face 
in her hands, and burst into tears. 

‘^I shall never see her again,” she exclaimed; in reply to 
Casbin’s soothing caress. 

Say not so, Juanita,” returned Casbin. ^‘Your corres- 
pondence, through the agency of the mission of the Redemp- 
tion, will be easy and regular; and it will not be difficult to 
make arrangements for a visit from her. At any rate it will 
always be in your power to meet her upon European ground. 
You shall do so ere long; in the meantime, Juanita, you have 
no one but me!” 

Juanita raised her eyes, gleaming through her tears with a 
look of passionate fondness, to his face. ‘‘ I wish for no one 
else,” she exclaimed; ‘^Oh, Casbin, I am content!” 

‘‘My life! my soul!” exclaimed Casbin, pressing her to his 
breast. “ It shall not be a fault of mine, if you are not ever 
so. Oh, Juanita, if my love, deep as that sea, pure as that 
sky. and fervid as that sun, can content you, you shall never 
repine!” 

“Come, Juanita, let us to the hills. If we rest here longer, 
we shall have the whole town of Tetuan to visit us. Come, 
Queen of the Mozarg, to your mountain berdj — to your home 
in the Atlas!” 


296 


THE BERBER, 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Our story here properly closes; but as the reader, who 
has taken interest enough to follow thus far, may, perhaps, feel 
some curiosity as to the after fortunes of the principal charac- 
ters, we will endeavor to satisfy him or her, in the fewest 
possible words. 

And first, of the Sultan, who continued to live, and reign, 
the centre of civil and domestic broils until his death in 1727. 
His son, the ferocious Muley Sid an, having aroused the 
jealousy of the old tyrant, and refusing to appear at court, was 
despatched, at the instigation of his father, by his own women. 
The next in succession, Muley Abdelmelec, also incurring his 
father’s ire, was compelled to retire from the court. Every 
effort was made to lure him back again; but finding all his 
eiforts to bring his rebellious son into his power unsuccessful, 
Muley Ismael resolved to alter the succession, and publicly 
proclaimed another son, Muley Hammed Debby, heir to the 
throne. 

Muley Debby reigned four years, and in the annals of ty- 
ranny there is not to be found another instance of such a 
monster. The vices and cruelties of Muley Ismael were com- 
pletely eclipsed by this fiend in human guise. During his 
short reign he killed more than fifteen hundred persons with 
his own hands; and, besides, a countless host of wretches were 
destroyed b^ the most terrible tortures. To him succeeded 
another son of Muley Ismael, Muley Abdallah ; who gave fre- 
quent evidence of a similarly reckless and cruel disposition. 
In 1757 his son, Sidi Hammed Ibn Abdallah, succeeded him. 
Hammed was followed by his son, Muley Yezzed Ibn Ham- 
med. Upon the death of Yezzed, Muley Soliman, a com- 
paratively mild and enlightened prince, mounted the throne; 
and after a peaceful life, was followed by the present reigning 
Sultan, Muley Abderrhaman, a quiet, common-place, money- 
loving character, in no way entitled to detain us from the 
more interesting personages of our tale, to whom we will 
return. 


A TALE OF MOROCCO, 


297 


The rais and his party reached England in safety, where 
efie brothers found no difficulty in substantiating their claims 
to the large fortune left by their father. With as little delay 
as was consistent with the administration of the rites of bap- 
tism and confirmation, necessary for the admission of Xaripha 
into the pale of the English Church, the Moresca and her 
lover were, married. The brothers, with their brides, retired 
to the country, where the enthusiasm of love subsiding, as, 
alas! it ever does, let them down pleasantly upon the habits, 
duties, pleasures, friendships and affections of English domes- 
tic life. Abdallah, with the mercantile instinct strong within 
him, preferred a residence for the greater portion of the year 
in the city. He had capital, and great facilities in his pro- 
found knowledge of Moorish and Oriental manners, tastes 
and wants. He became a merchant of note, and for many 
years, the wealthy Mr. Asken bore rank among the mightiest 
of the merchant princes on ’Change. 

It remains but to speak of the Berber and Juanita. To do 
so at length, to relate the history of the struggle which for 
years the gallant Amekran waged with the various obstacles 
which offered themselves almost at every step, to the execu- 
tion of his designs; to describe his romantic adventures and 
his daring deeds, would be to write another book. Suffice it 
for us to say, that if, .in such a desperate contest as that be- 
tween one enlightened man, and a people, proud, bigoted, 
ignorant and moulded in the prejudices of two or three 
thousand years, the Berber did not command full success, he 
at least labored faithfully to deserve it. And in this he found, 
as he had expected, a worthy helpmate in the generous and 
spirited Juanita. His energy of soul, his dauntless courage, 
his noble ambition, received new impulses from her ardent 
and glowing sympathy. Her mind, expanding at once under 
the stimulus of passion, took, in its full length and width, a 
comprehensive view of her relations to him, of her duties to 
his people. The adventurous traveler may in the present day 
find many evidences of the influence which she exerted among 
the Beni Mozarg, although that tribe has been divided, scat- 
tered and the old landmarks nearly destroyed. He will find 
h. e.name cherished in many families of the Ait Amore, and 
a current belief that she will yet return, with powerful armies 
at her command, to suppress by force the blood feuds of the 
Berbers^ and drive the Moors out of Morocco. A belief 


A TALE OF MOROCCO. 


298 


arising from the fact, that upon the death of Casbin, leaving 
no son to succeed him, she took her two daughters, and 
bidding adieu to the Atlas forever, crossed the Straits from 
Tetuan to Gibraltar, and thence to England, where, in the 
education of her children, the companionship of her sister 
and Xaripha, and in the exercise of all womanly charities and 
virtues, she passed the remainder of her days. 


THE END. 




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A book which no public man can afford to omit reading.— Critic. 

The most remarkable book of tiie century in its possible effects upon the course 
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A trumpet call to a struggle which cannot long be avoided. — Philadelphia Star, 

A bold and frank exposition of theories now forcing themselves on public 
Chicago Tribune. 

Earnest, honest and forcible; radical to the root; bold, sweeping and dogmatic. 
•^-Louisville Courier-Journal. 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY, Publishers, 

14 & 16 Vbsey Street, New Yore. 


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